


Along Crocus Rove

by Serade



Series: Levy Freeheart [2]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Abortion, Alternative Universe - Medieval Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Assassins & Hitmen, Banishment, Betrayal, Complicated Relationships, Corpses, F/F, F/M, Family Loss, Gore, M/M, Magic, Other, Permanent Injury, Pregnancy, Religion, Revenge, Sabotage, Secrets, Sequel, Slavery, Spirits, Torture, bandits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 127,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serade/pseuds/Serade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2484902/">Levy Freeheart</a>.<br/>The time had come, a knew king had been crowned. Laws were restored and rights reinstated, but there was much left to do for the new royalty. Fiore was in an economical crisis. Forced to a deal he would otherwise never have considered, Laxus puts his hopes in Levy's plan. Even with sabotage and banditry running wild, it still seemed he didn't have enough reasons to worry. A series of assassination attempts further unsettle the court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Much Left to Do

After the death of Toma E. Fiore, the country was in disarray. Bandits thrived in the twenty years of chaos that followed his demise and no one was safe from their pillaging. It was first when the master of the Fairy Tail Guards of Magnolia Town discovered a weak link between his grandson and the E. Fiore family that the people found new hope and peace seemed attainable once more.

Together with the Freeheart Bandits from Hargeon, the Dreyar family rode out to claim the throne of Fiore. After five years and many bloody battles with their greatest rivals, the Phantom Lord Bandits, did they finally march into the grand castle Mercurius and crown their new king.

The people rejoiced as the new crown family stood upon the wide balcony and waved out toward the city in the moments after the royal wedding. Tales were told and songs were sung of the grand quest of the Dryear family. Monuments had been erected to honour the fallen and story tellers began spinning sagas to celebrate them.

But, there was still much left to do.

To win a war and hold a ceremony was the easy part. Now came ruling a country, rebuilding from scratch what had been in ruin for two decades.

The highest rank of leaders, the councillors sitting at the king's table, were much too few. Levy, Lady Freeheart had taken upon herself to act as chair, the king's foremost advisor and right hand. Rose, Lady Freeheart led the troops of his army as high constable of The Crown. As such, she had the oversight for the entirety of the royal army, all the guard troops, rogues and soldiers.

The king himself counted as a member of the table as well and the old historian Michello served as adviser at the table's side. Everyone else had yet to be found. They needed a treasurer, an archmage, an elderscholar, and many other councillors and advisers to attend their meetings. These were positions Levy was in charge of filling.

Around the castle, the streets of the flowering city now did its name justice again. The inhabitants had put out large flower pots on every corner and the planters hanging form the numerous windowsills were again richly filled with flora.

It had been a little over three months since the liberation and the city both looked and smelled like new, the happy and safe aura that had once been obvious within the ring of stone walls finally palpable again.

The grand castle of The Crown also buzzed with life, hundreds of feet skittering along the hidden hallways. The open halls and corridors were once more laid out with thick rugs, the splendid sights almost allowing one to forget the chaos of the past years.

The king and queen were living in the grandest of the castle quarters, the sitting room's balcony allowing a breathtaking view over the entire eastern side of the capital. Each and every day, the sun met the golden tips decorating the balcony door and cast a bright gleam through the room before reaching the windows of the bedchamber and waking the royal family for the day.

Not far below where the quarters of The Chair where Levy yawned irritably as the sun stabbed her eyes.

She had been reading in her sitting room for over two hours already, taking notes on the subject of national and international economy. The crown treasury was empty. They had brought little to no coin with them as they took the castle a few months ago. Not a single jewel had been spared in the years of chaos, both gold and jewellery looted.

Levy strongly suspected that the riches of Fiore had landed in the hands of former councillors rather than that of any commoners or even bandits. Surely the fine men hadn't been foolish enough to leave behind any gold in the castle when fleeing the city.

She also doubted that a single one would come back with a chunk of gold for them. Jessalyn had been quite right with her demand that none of the former members of the table should be allowed back. One that wanted the best for Fiore would come to the capital, give what he could and serve as advisor, not demand a position of power. Anyone that laid such claims only proved that he wasn't worthy of it, just as Siegrain had.

Besides the former elder scholar of The Crown, Michello, only the social and justice advisor Yajima had returned to serve the Dreyar family and their army.

Michello had been of great help when Levy studied history, this being his speciality. He was a harsh, but effective mentor that did not allow for any sloppy work. He had also been a great addition to the advisers, with cold logic and the wisdom only old men could hold helping the king decide what actions to take during the war. After the coronation, Yajima had left for Mid Bugbane to fulfil a life long dream and open a restaurant, settling down by the sea.

These were two men that truly wanted the best for the country, not only themselves. They had dedicated years of their lives to serve the people and even though they knew the risks, they came back to help in the quest for the crown, to help facilitate peace.

Other than that, there were the former soldiers and guards. Every day, more men joined their ranks, officially adopting the new king's colours and putting themselves under his command. The former dominance of men among the armed forces made itself known as they returned, not only balancing out the Freeheart women, but quickly becoming a majority once more.

But that was all Rose's area. She had to determine which of them were trustworthy enough to serve in the Mercurius Guard itself and which were strong and smart enough to lead their comrades against bandits and criminals.

She had made Lahar and Doranbolt generals of the Royal Army and had assigned the swordsman Kageyama the position as captain of the Crocus City Guard. The Mercurius Guard was so far still under her personal command, a situation somewhat unfitting for a kingdom the size of Fiore. The high constable ought to only directly command the army and delegate the guarding to the different guard masters.

Many battle trained men came to the capital to serve near the royal family, gladly standing guard on the grand walls, but their greatest increase in numbers came from the troops that stayed in their own towns all around the country, sending a message to confirm their continued loyalty to The Crown.

Shaking her sleepy thoughts away, Levy got up and stretched. There was a knock on her door and she sighed. “Yes?”, she asked aloud and the heavy oak door opened, one of the castle guards bowing low. “The king is expecting you at the table, Lady Levy”, he stated and she waved him away with a small nod.

'Lady Levy'. It still had an odd ring to the scholar. Since there were so many Lady Freeheart's now, it had become almost common to call the ladies by their first name within the castle itself. It was nothing like what she had grown up with, but she was hardly about to complain. Most from outside the castle simply resorted to calling her 'Chair' instead since it strictly speaking was rude to call someone of nobility by first name.

Her champion would surely be up soon as well and attend the meeting. Gajeel hadn't been on night duty today, leaving her protection to other castle guards. She knew he didn't like doing that, but the knight was merely human and needed his rest. It was impressive enough that he could stand still in one and the same spot for twelve hours straight without falling asleep.

The king's three royal guards were even better at it, the rogue Bickslow able to take full 24 hour shifts without the slightest sign of fatigue. There was no reason for the black steel knight to push himself to such limits now that Levy literally had thousands of soldiers to back her up. The only reason she preferred it when he had the night watch was the fact that he could spend part of it right beside her in bed rather than behind closed doors.

They didn't really get much time alone these days. The work was just piling up and Levy was constantly running from appointment to appointment. The little time that was left had to be spent studying or sorting the paperwork. She already forced Laxus to do every single appearance. It was not strictly speaking the way this should be handled. The king was supposed to have scholars that could take care of simple audiences for him.

Tying her hair up in an effort to look at least a little less tired, she picked her notes up and headed out. Two guards were right at her heel when she turned into the long corridor that led to the table chamber. Gajeel already stood outside the massive hall and held the door open for her as she approached, smoothly taking over from his colleagues.

The guards usually insisted on walking in pairs of two, one on each side of the noble, but when Gajeel was with the chair, he was alone. He was a knight, honoured personally by their sovereign, and he insisted he could protect his liege on his own. No one dared challenge the fearsome black steel knight by audibly doubting those words.

Levy stepped into the meeting hall and the attending councillors and advisers rose to their feet. This were only Rose and Michello so far, the king not under any obligation to stand when she entered.

He looked somewhat tired himself, his hair a tiny bit tousled around the slim gold crown. It was simpler than the ceremonial version with rubies and pompous décor. This slender circle was far lighter, allowing for it to be worn the entire day without straining the neck.

It was a wonder that Michello had managed to save the four crowns, that he had kept them safe for twenty years without selling them or having them stolen. In contrast to Seven, the Fiore tradition had both king and queen wear a crown during both ceremonial services and daily life. Levy didn't envy them, glad to be able to sport her fine but still practical scholar robes instead.

Rose was now more often than not in full plate armour, having put the simpler leather and maille behind. A shining knight simply looked more impressive, more authoritarian. The surcoat bound together with a belt around her waist was the same old Freeheart blue, the winged heart decorating its chest and back.

Michello still didn't approve of the choice, but Laxus had decided that the Mercurius Guard would wear this symbol instead of the Fairy Tail mark, to honour the Freeheart Army's participation in the capture of the castle. Without their help, there would be no castle guard to discuss, and this way, a tiny piece of the former army was preserved.

Once Levy flopped down opposite their king, the red haired Freeheart retook her seat at the table while Michello, as adviser, stayed on the sidelines. The Chair opened her book again and cleared her throat.

“I made sure the news of Your Highness's coronation and marriage reached the north of Fiore. The lack of notice is thus not due to any lack of information, but simple disinterest. They don't know you yet, but I'm sure they will come around before the next spring.

The southern lands, I do not think we need to worry about in the least. A lot of the southern guards have contacted us and the connections to the Capital are strong. Trade has picked up greatly too, so the news will spread with the caravans”, she told them.

Turning to Rose, she asked, “Our biggest issue right now is military. Where are you on that, High Constable?” “I agree with your assessment about the north. The master of the Dahlia Guard has confirmed that they will join the royal army as guard troop. The city is big and well connected. I wouldn't be surprised if more of the northern cities and towns follow their example soon.”, Rose told her cheerfully.

“I also reinstated the Zinla Guard and the Lucilia guards are happy to join us as well”, she added to conclude her report.

Zinla was located a few days south of the capital. It was just one day further down than the spot where Crocus Rove curved to the east, and was thus a popular resting place for caravans. To have the city well protected was important, but the news of the reinstated guard troop still didn't give Levy much reason to relax.

“Can we even provide for more guards?”, she asked sceptically. The Crown was broke. Rose knew that as well. Everyone knew that. “You let that be my concern, Chair”, the redhead simply said and Levy sighed deeply. “I don't want to see any sudden reports about great costs in the military. We can't afford...”, she began, but the older woman interrupted her. “Levy. I said, don't worry about it. I'll handle it.”

“There is another problem, though”, she continued, looking to Laxus to make sure the king was listening. “During the war, we simply killed our enemies, but now we have to keep prisoners somewhere. The barrack cellars are full and keeping people under lock down in their own homes is a terribly infective option. We've had to let people go without as much as a trial all around the city already.”

“How many are we talking?”, Levy asked, hovering a coal pen over her notes. “Five hundred, at the very least”, the High Constable said and she dropped her head in an exhausted sigh as she noted it down.

“That many?”, Laxus asked shocked and Rose nodded, “That is just the city of Crocus. There are more to go around.” “What are they sitting in for?”, the king wondered. He didn't understand how things could get out of hand this quickly. It hadn't even been four months. Five hundred people behind bars. That was a huge number.

“Robbery and bar fights mostly. The few murderers and rapists are being held separate and will obviously not get any special treatment”, Rose shrugged. She almost seemed to find his surprise a little amusing. “Is it normal that there are this many people sitting in prison?”, Laxus asked in suspicion and she nodded again, “Yes, Your Highness, quite normal.”

“The dungeons under the city can hold two thousand, but the old caverns are treacherous and no one has been down there for years. We cannot simply waltz down there and start locking people up. Our own men would get lost or worse. I cannot uphold the laws with the current situation. It is not sustainable.”

“I will figure something out”, Levy ensured her, scribbling something down in her thick book. “What do I do in the meantime?”, Rose asked and Laxus took a moment to think.

“Maybe turn a blind eye on the pettiest crimes for a bit?”, he suggested. That had both Levy and Rose look back at him with deep frowns on their foreheads. He could see that Michello didn't think any better of his proposal either, the elder's expression one of calm disapproval.

“With all due respect, My King, that is the stupidest thing you've said since we rode out for Mai”, the High Constable stated matter of factly. “How is that respectful?!”, Freed barked from his position by the doors and the redhead turned to him, meeting his eyes head on with a firm stare of her own as she warned, “Watch it, Guard.”

Laxus sighed audibly that their stupid quarrel still hadn't been resolved. The royal guard could not see past the attack on his liege even though it had been more than a year ago. The Freeheart woman had slapped him across the face once after the slaughter on Crocus Rove to get him back on track. Ever since, Freed didn't approve of anything she said or did. Had not Laxus stopped him, he would have aimed to kill her back then.

Levy cleared her throat to get the two of them to stop glaring at another and refocus. “We have to make sure the laws that we wrote are being followed. Showing yourself weak this quickly is a very bad idea”, she agreed with her co-council. “What do we do then? Set in provisional prisons? We don't really know for how long this will last, do we?”, the king asked. “No, we don't”, Levy admitted.

She looked up at the ceiling and everyone waited in silence. She always did this when she was cogitating, looking away so that no person could interrupt her thoughts by moving or blinking. Gajeel watched her with an air of fascination. He loved this look on her, completely focused. She was so smart. Any moment now, she would say something clever to solve the problem.

“I propose group trials and extended community service”, Levy stated. She looked back at the king and explained. “If a group is involved in the same crime and that crime is petty enough to deal out solely community service, take them to trial all at once. Give them a sentence as group and get on with the next ones.

That way we can clear out a lot of people that would have been allowed to leave after their trial either way. The rest will have to endure a little longer while we sort this out. Our court members have complained about a very high workload, so they should appreciate this change as well.”

Rose looked to Laxus as well for his final word and he nodded his approval. “I will inform the guards and the court of the changes”, the High Constable stated, taking the job upon herself. “And with that, we're done for now”, Levy smiled.

Rose instantly strode out of the hall, her two guards behind her. Passing Freed, she made a point of not looking at him and the green haired royal guard did the same. Michello too left without a single word, but The Chair stretched a little before standing up. “Come to think of, who sits in our court now?”, Laxus asked.

He had given Levy free reins with a lot of decisions in order to ease her work, but that also left him uninformed of many details. He remembered well how Jessalyn had scolded him for thinking he could rule on his own. It really was far too much work. Right now he merely took care of all the audiences, the formal meetings and public appearances, and he was exhausted. It was a mystery to him how Levy handled it all.

“A couple of well read scholars. I trust them to follow the written word over their own assessments. If you want to meet them, you could do so this afternoon, after the audiences.” He shook his head at once. “It's quite aright. I trust you.” He had enough work as it was and was hardly eager to pile up more assignments.

“Have you found any other suitable councillors yet?”, he asked instead. There was no way she could keep track of everything on her own in the long run. She was far too stressed already, he could tell.

“Not really, but I'm sure more will come along soon. People are moving back into the capital. I heard from Darton. He is an old mage and a highly educated scholar. I intend to ask him to become the new archmage of The Scholarship of The Crown. With that, he would also traditionally gain a spot at the table”, the Chair told him and he nodded in agreement. “Sounds good.”

The bluenette collected her things and bowed to him before turning to the door. “Levy”, he addressed er informally and she looked back curiously. “Hm?” “Do make sure to rest up a little, aright?”, he requested, but the bluenette just gave a small shrug before leaving.

That did not quite satisfy him. He needed his right hand to stay sharp minded while they sorted all of this out. If she kept pushing herself, her focus was bound to crumble down eventually.

“Knight Gajeel, one moment”, he ordered and the heavily pierced knight stopped in mid step, surprised and a little bewildered what the king might want from him. “My king?”, he asked politely. It was still a little odd to have to be so formal. The only time they had really spoken had been in a bath, both no more than soldiers of their quest, a leader with little authority and a bandit, not a king and a knight.

“Make sure she actually rests. She looks exhausted”, the blonde stated and he smiled. “Will do, Your Highness.” He bowed and left, hurrying after his liege.

Levy returned to her chambers and picked her work back up. She had to finish this today, because tomorrow, she would have to deal with the issue of the barracks. For that problem, she at least knew what she needed to do.

Gajeel again found himself watching his liege work. For hours, she sat in the same spot, hunched over books and stacks of paper. From time to time, she muttered something. She did it when she found something interesting and invigorating, hissing small cheers, or when she found something unhelpful or downright discouraging, instead swearing under her breath. For this particular subject, she cussed a lot.

Once the sun had descended again, the knight left his guard spot and strode around the table to his liege. “It's late. Go to bed already.”

Levy just nodded a little, not even looking up from the text at hand. “I will. Just give me a moment”, she mumbled disinterested. He had seen this enough nights in a row now to know she would not be that easily disturbed. Waiting for a short while, he put a hand on her shoulder and insisted, “A moment is up.”

The scholar glared back at him angrily. “Don't interrupt me”, she hissed. This was far more important than a few hours of sleep. She could sleep once this mess was sorted out and so far, she was no where near a solution. That he butted in did not help.

“King's orders”, Gajeel stated matter of factly and she frowned back up at the towering man. “What?”

“He told me to make sure you rest, and that's what I intend to do”, the black steel knight said firmly. He was not putting it up for discussion. Being the bluenette's champion aside, he was officially bound to the king's orders and right now, he happened to like them.

Shooing her out of her chair, he forced the scholar to get ready for bed. He had truly intended to let her sleep at once, but her soft hands dragged him down onto the sheets after her and he ended up staying a while.

After sating their hunger, he redressed, lastly pulling his gauntlets back on his hands. Stroking one metal clad hand through her tousled hair, he placed a loving kiss on her temple to wish her goodnight.

“I'll be right outside”, he whispered and a small noise of complaint left her. She turned onto her back and gazed up at him in the dim room. “Why don't you just stay here?”, she suggested and he huffed a laugh. “I'd love to, but I'm you knight and I'm supposed to protect you, to stand guard outside your quarters, not in them.” “I know”, the bluenette pouted.

It wasn't like that would ever change. She didn't think Laxus would oppose them, but if The Chair of Fiore got married to a former Phantom Lord bandit, a lot of angry voices would grow loud. It was bad enough that the king had allowed a phantom to be knighted, had performed the ritual and bestowed the title upon the bandit his own self.

It was not to be. As long as Gajeel served under her and was invisible to most, as long as no one cared who he was or where he came from, things would stay calm.

“Besides, my shift is over soon. I'll see you tomorrow”, the knight said softly and she took a hold of his hand, pulling him down for one last kiss before allowing him to leave.

 

 


	2. The Crocus Dungeons

Levy walked out of the castle in the early morning and headed for the stables. Getting their horses saddled and rained, her champion wondered, “Where exactly are we headed?”

They could have taken a cart instead, but for some reason, the scholar preferred riding on her own. It felt more at home to her, sitting on the high horse back. She hadn't travelled by cart since she was little. If anything, it was uncomfortable to her now because it held so many memories of her parents, their little farm and the weekly trips into town.

Swinging up on Nyx's back, she explained, “I need to see Serena. He is the only one we know that used to service the dungeons.”

Laxus had called it while they were still in Hargeon. This man would be an important asset. The blonde had even ordered Serena to stay behind when they rode out to toward Mai. He was to stay away from battle and out of any danger. That decision paid of greatly now.

Once the final battle was decided, the Freehearts that protected the harbour city had been divided, some forming the new official Hargeon Guard and others joining either the royal army or the Crocus Guard. Serena was among the men that were moved and could now pride himself as part of the guard troop that protected the flowering capital, patrolling the walls and streets day and night under the command of their guard master, the former Freeheart loyal Kageyama.

Levy and Gajeel trotted toward the southern barracks in a slow pace. Both Nyx and Hemera had luckily been found again after the battle. Not a single scratch was left on them and Nyx's mane had already started to grow out a little again. Levy still insisted that the black steed shouldn't have it cut unless she ever rode into battle on its back again. She sure hoped that wouldn't come to pass. That one time was more than enough for her. If she needed to be a hero in the future, she would want it to be of a more subtle nature.

Gajeel still limped because of what happened back at the gates of Mercurius and she did feel a little guilty. It was her he had protected when he got injured. Wendy had made sure no infections caught the knight, but his knee had been ruined by the crossbow bolts of the Phantoms. Only due to the young healer's care could he still walk.

It had been heart wrenching to watch how a few of the men held him down, setting his leg with strong hands in accordance to the petite girl's instructions. Even with the biting gag, the knight's screams had echoed through the castle halls, but it was all well worth it in the end.

After the incredibly painful procedure, he could stand on his own again. After a few weeks, he could even walk around without a cane, something they hadn't been sure would be possible. He was still a little unstable and could not perform any sharp turns while his weight was balanced on the injured leg, but it was a blessing that he got away so well.

It took a week before the knight was able to control Hermera again. The steed was trained to react to pressure from both sides equally, but now she had to be more sensitive to his right leg since it wasn't as strong any more. The intelligent mare caught on quickly when Levy rode beside them, Nyx going in the right direction and cutting the other horse off over and over again until the new movement pattern stuck.

The scholar had learned this technique back in Aster. A farmer's horse had an uneven stride. One of its legs was shorter than the other and the animal thus always tended to walk in that direction. Usually, a horse like that would be served as dinner instead, but the farmer insisted he could still use it. After being reined into the middle during cart rides for a few months, it learned to adjust, proving him right. It was all about the muscle sense of the animal.

Horses were creatures that had to be taught from both sides. Just because they knew to react in a certain manner when something happened on the right side didn't mean they understood to do the same when it was on the left. These were two entirely different situations to them. It was one of many reasons why a horse should learn together with its rider. If you always saddled up from the right, a sudden approach from the left wouldn't work very well.

Levy had always had a good connection with animals. Perhaps it was because of her childhood on the farm. Her father had always insisted animals were more sensitive than humans and could tell if you were a good person or not. This, he said, was the reason she could connect to them. It was in her soul, in her kindness as a person. She doubted she still had that kindness in her heart after everything that had happened, but animals still seemed to like her for some reason. Despite being a scholar, her father had been a little naive. Or maybe he had just played pretend for her since she was so young.

Reaching the barracks, she dismounted together with her champion and they hitched their horses to a post. There was a row of mounts standing here, owned by the Crocus Guard and available for its men whenever necessary. The doors to the old building were wide open in the surprisingly warm morning sun.

The commander recognised Levy at once as she walked inside. He got up stiffly and bowed to her before standing professionally straight in front of the young councillor. “Chair, what an honour. Is there anything I can do for you?”

The guards currently sitting inside took a second longer to react, apparently not able to recognise the blue haired scholar by looks alone, but after seeing their commander’s actions, they quickly copied them to show their respect to the chain of command.

As guards, they had a lot of people above them. The commander was only their one up. Above the handful of commanders was the guard master Kageyama, and because there was a noble in this city, the castle guard master was above the city guard master. On the top of that were the royal guards and at the very tip the high constable, the chair and the king himself.

“I need to speak with Serena. He is a guard in your force”, Levy said and the commander nodded. “Of course. At once.” Motioning to one of his men, he inaudibly ordered them to go find the person she had asked for.

“How are you holding up, Commander?”, the bluenette wondered as she took a look around. The barracks really needed a renovation, as so much did these days. The hard old chairs couldn't possibly be very comfortable seating for the men that had to do the paperwork around here. The lighting was bad too and it smelled of rats.

“I can't complain, My Lady. I'm glad to be in The Crown's service once more and I am sure every soldier here will tell you the same”, the man stated dutifully. “I'm sure”, Levy murmured. That didn't mean their conditions were good. She knew how low their pay was and after what Rose had reported yesterday, she knew they had far more work than could be deemed reasonable.

If she aimed to rebuild a kingdom, she needed armed forces that would be loyal for many years to come, when the novelty of peace had worn out and they realised that their pay was a bad joke. This kind of state wasn't good for morale in the long run. It was not what she would have wanted, but the military had to be her top priority with the numerous bandit groups still roaming the lands. Too much time had passed since there had been an organised law enforcement.

There was an angry yell from somewhere within the building and she sceptically raised an eyebrow at the commander. “You might be aware that we are a little... crammed for space”, the man excused and she nodded a little. “Yea. I'm aware.” That was the exact problem she was aiming to solve.

She thought on it for a moment before deciding that she did want to see it. “Show me to the cellars”, she ordered and the commander visibly tensed. “With all due respect, My Lady, I do not believe that is a very good idea”, he tried. “That wasn't a suggestion”, the bluenette simply stated and he gave in, leading her into the back and down the old wooden stairs.

The stone basement of the barracks was a rather dim place, most light coming from torches along the narrow passage that was crammed between the overfilled cells. The men and women stuck here were either restless and irritated or almost still standing, pale, like they had lost the energy to be angry long ago. The air was sticky, the windows far too small to allow enough circulation with this amount of people.

It was an uncomfortable reminder of her own captivity back in Aster. Back then, she had been convinced she would suffocate. Now she knew that wasn't a risk, but the feeling of the walls closing in on her came back as if it had been yesterday.

“Levy?”

She looked up at her loyal and gave a small smile, just to communicate that she would be fine. He needn't worry.

Further into the cellar, a very aggravated man was pacing from left to right behind the cellar door. He kept turning his gaze to the guard outside, glaring with an obvious distaste, but not daring to take any further action. Nodding toward the man, Levy inaudibly asked.

“He wants to get a trial as soon as possible. He claims his children are on their own in the meantime”, the commander explained and she made a gesture, prompting him to continue. “He should be heard tomorrow and will most probably be allowed to leave after that.”

Levy could see that the man was very anxious. It was no surprise if he had children waiting for his return, but there was little she could do. The court was still expanding. She had given the task of finding suitable scholars to the ones that were already there, but such proceedings took time, and there was no system to take care of lone children. She had an idea, but that would take even more time. Everything took time, even where there was none to be had. That was sadly a fact of life.

“How many of these people have had their trial?”, she asked and the commander sighed deeply. “All but those in that cell, furthest away.” The bluenette forced back any physical reaction to this information.

She was the highest ranking person here and couldn't show her worry in front of the commander and definitely not in front of the overworked guards or the captives that eyed her from behind closed doors. It was hard not to sigh and let her head hang, though. The group trials wouldn't help even a fifth of the captives stuck here, for they were already processed. The situation was truly dire.

Turning around, she walked back up the creaking stairs to find Serena had been escorted into the barrack by now. He looked a little nervous, like he worried he might be in trouble, but the moment he spotted Levy, he relaxed again. “My Lady, it's been a while”, he greeted happily with a small bow and she smiled in turn. “A city guard's armour suits you, but you will have to change emblem. I've got work for you at the castle.”

Each troop had their own symbol. The Crocus Guard wore a silvery pin depicting a Crocus flower while the Mercurius Guard retained the Winged Heart as their symbol and the army itself shared the mark of the Fairy Tail guards, the family chest of Dreyar.

Serena was quite fond of the small pin, but he gave it back without further protest. If the lady needed him, he would do whatever she required. She was a very nice person and incredibly bright for her age. Already in Hargeon, had she captured all the soldier’s hearts and now she was Chair of The Crown at the age of eighteen. It was unheard of.

Borrowing a horse, the green haired man followed The Chair and her champion back to Mercurius. Levy explained her intentions during the ride.

They needed the dungeons under the capital operational as quickly as possible in order to handle the stunning number of criminals they had retained in the past months, and as it happened, he was the only person that knew how to navigate the underground prison. They would draw an accurate map over it with his help. The one she had sketched while talking to him in Hargeon was drawn from memory alone and could hardly be good enough to make any real use of.

Levy searched for the old jailer keys where Serena suspected they would have been left, in a dusty corner of the empty treasury. It lay among unidentifiable rusty metal pieces and a couple of tools too average to be worth looting. These halls, Levy hadn't ordered to be cleaned yet since they weren't used with the tiny amount of gold that The Crown had.

On the former jailer's advice, she picked four castle guards to come with them on their exploration. She also placed two men at the top of the spiral staircase that lead underneath the grand castle before walking down the stone steps. The caverns that ran underneath the city were said to easily confuse those that dared enter, trapping people inside with no tricks other than simple disorientation. If they didn't return before dusk, the guards were to inform the king. Levy didn't worry much about it with Serena at her side, though. The former jailer would have told her if she had any reason to be.

Starting down the spiral staircase, she let the green haired guard lead the way.

As they descended, it became increasingly hard to see and the castle guards lit a torch each. Despite the helpful illumination, the flickering of the fires only gave the old stone stairs an even more ominous touch. They did however radiate a heat that was comforting in contrast to the cold and humid air that was trapped in the depths of the stone construct.

The further they walked, the duller became the sounds of the castle above and soon even the conversation of the two guards waiting for their return could no longer be heard. Instead, the sound of their steps resonated loudly around them. The metal armour of the guards and Levy's champion could surely be heard all the way down to the landing.

Mushrooms that were growing plentifully in the cracks between the stone blocks made it clear just how seldom this particular path had been walked. Even when the dungeons were in use, prisoners and guards hardly walked through Mercurius every day. There were several entrances to the underground labyrinth around the city, one of them right under an old barrack where the proceedings had been held before.

There were surely numerous ways in and out of the labyrinth that had never even been discovered, but the entrances that they knew about were all sealed off, heavy wooden planks and long nails barring the doors. The former jailers must have nailed them shut before leaving their duties after the The Crown fell.

And it was no different here. As they reached the landing, they found a large wooden door, shut and barred like all the others. Whomever had ordered the closing had made sure it was done properly, but facing a heavy two handed axe in the hands of the black steel knight, the structure quickly gave in and they could swing the heavy doors open in a drawn out, sad creak.

A horrid stench assaulted the group from within and Levy clasped a hand over her nose, giving a grunt of disgust. It was as though death itself had exhaled in these corridors before the doors were sealed all those years ago.

The men wrinkled their noses at the odour. One of the guards even physically shied back from the entrance, unable to take it. He looked about ready to puke, a hint of green illness creeping to his face.

Levy looked the man up and down sceptically. He was rather young compared to his colleagues, but not compared to her. He must not have seen battle or met the miasma of corpses before to react this strongly. Perhaps he had joined the armed forces recently, after the coronation. Taking pity on him, the scholar excused Morley from their mission to go check in with a healer instead.

Tying her headband over her nose to fight the stench, Levy lead on into the tunnels.

The stone corridor led them further down steeply and the scholar measured it with her steps as she walked, placing one foot directly in front of the other and keeping count in her head. Her own feet were not even close to the definition of the general unit 'feet', but honestly, who had such huge feet? It was as though a giant had invented the standard.

While the men seemed a little hesitant, Levy looked around the corridor with great curiosity. She had expected it to be even clammier down here than in the spiral staircase, but the walls and floor were bone dry around them.

The cold of the staircase was also quickly forgotten among the warmth that hugged them here. It was the air itself that was warm, being heated somewhere further down the tunnel system. The earth surrounding the stone build was acting as brilliant isolation, surely keeping the dungeons heated even in the worst cold of winter.

What was alike, was the silence. Though, the quiet was more intense here than on the way down, the echo of their own movements not returning to them with nearly the same clarity nor volume. Only a subtle crackling of their burning torches and the men's heavy steps were audible around the focused scholar. It seemed as though even the last tiny insect had gone into hiding.

There weren't any rats or other small animals typically found in hidden passages or caverns, either. Not even a single spider had she spotted so far. It was unsettling. For twenty years, no one had been down here and yet, not a single living thing had settled beyond the doors, only dust. There had to be a reason for it.

“This place isn't poisonous, is it?”, she asked and Serena chuckled a little. “No, My Lady, but there is an odd magic that lingers here. It is sinister in nature, but not directly harmful. It's been around for as long as Fiore itself and never hurt anyone. It just becomes very unsettling after a while, so if you're down here an entire day, you are said to loose your mind and soul to the curse.”

“I don't like the sound of that”, Gajeel muttered and Levy smiled up at him impishly. “Are you scared?”, she teased and the knight huffed in irritation. “As if.” He crossed his arms over his chest demonstratively and she gave a slight chuckle before continuing on forward.

When they reached the first intersection, the bluenette crouched down to bring her measurements to paper and quickly sketch what they saw before themselves now. The hallway split into four, each direction looking exactly the same, every single stone seemingly identical.

“These dungeons were intentionally built in a way that confuses any captives or uninvited guests. You will find many sections like this one, and I mean _exactly_ like this one. After a while, you loose your way. Anyone managing to break out of a cell still only has very slim chances of finding their way out. Again, if you're down here for too long, you are lost either way”, Serena explained calmly.

He looked over the intersection with a certain familiarity and awe, like a soldier returning home after years of service on the road. Every last chip in the stone seemed well known to him, and old friend, still there, still the same as it had always been.

“Doesn't that mean we will get lost too?”, one of the castle guards inquired and he smiled back in amusement. “Not while I am here.” Putting a hand against the warm wall, he elaborated.

“I have learned every last walking pattern, retracing the same steps year after year. It is even possible to navigate the tunnels without a map or specific patterns. The curse's epicentre is far down below, right underneath the castle. It serves as a reference point to those that can feel it. Having walked down this path, we are now slightly north of it. That way you can find back to your starting point.”

“You can feel magic?”, Levy wondered in surprise and he shook his head. “No, My Lady. I just know my walking patterns. That is all one really needs”, the guard answered proudly. Internalising these patterns was clearly a skill harder to master than it seemed.

“Where would you like to go?”, he asked and the scholar shrugged a little. “In what direction are the cells?” While the entirety of these tunnels were fascinating to her, it was the cells they were here to inspect today.

“All”, the green haired guard said and she furrowed her eyebrows. Selena cleared his throat and explained, “The tunnel system is a labyrinth that goes far beyond what I know. It has been here for ages, centuries, maybe even millennia. The Crocus Dungeons were built into the first and second floor of the labyrinth and the cells are scattered all over. No two cells are close enough to another to allow the captives to communicate. You are held in isolation. It is one of the many reasons these dungeons are virtually impossible to break out of unless you have help.”

“Scary effective”, One of the guards commented quietly.

He seemed scared aright, eyeing the walls as though they might devour him any second. This creepy place was getting to him, slowly weakening his view of reality with every odd stone they passed and every unknown sound they encountered. Levy could see how far his pupils had dilated despite the bright torch in his hand. They would have to find men with iron stomachs and even stronger minds to work down here. And they would need to get rid of the stench.

“What's with this smell?”, she asked and Serena shrugged. “No idea. It wasn't like this when I left twenty years ago.”

Walking further through the labyrinth, Levy realised that the map she had sketched before was very good. It was not nearly accurate enough, but still surprisingly so. The former jailer must be able to walk along these tunnels blindfolded to remember them this well.

The odd thing was, she felt like she could orientate herself within this labyrinth quite well. It wasn't because she recognised any of the intersections, but because she could tell in what direction she was walking. Not even the long and almost straight corridors could hide the fact that they were ever so slightly curved, aiming to lead her astray.

Logic alone wasn't the solution to this puzzle.

The ominous feeling that had started creeping into her while walking around had a direction. She couldn't quite describe what that meant, if it was the pattern of stones that looked untrustworthy or an even more obscure factor, but it was there and it was distinct.

The feeling was far too intense to be just the discomfort of these gloomy dungeons. She suspected this was the reason one of her guards was about ready to gnaw his fingers off. It had to be the magic Serena had spoken off. Now sensing it herself, it was easy to see how this had the potential to drive a man insane if exposed for too long, and just as the former jailer had said, she could locate the castle by the feeling alone, by the magical aura that lingered here.

She had read about something similar before, that mages were generally able to sense magic, both in an active form as well as the residue form former spells and incantations. That the labyrinth was supposed to be cursed was a well known myth. She had waved it off as a silly story, but it seemed there could be more truth to it than one might think. She would have to investigate the matter more closely in the near future.

When the corpse stench got worse, she decided to follow it. Finding one of the infamous prison cells, she stopped to note it down on her map before walking closer and inspecting it.

A metal door was etched right into the stone walls, impossible to break with normal human strength. Only someone like Elfman would have been able to cause this construction to give in. A magician or otherwise talented person might find a way to get out as well, but then there was still the entire labyrinth to overcome on a tight schedule and with guards watching the entrances. It truly was a breakout secure facility.

Curious, Levy walked up to the door and glanced through the bars only to spot a corpse within. Making a face, she turned to the guards. “At least we know why it smells like death now.”

“They just left the captives down here?”, Serena asked in shock and Gajeel gave a crackle. “What else would they do? Let a bunch of murderers run wild? Nah. Guess it would have been nicer to at least execute them, though”, he stated and the green haired guard swallowed back a gag of disgust as he tried to repress the imagery.

Bringing forth the old set of jailer keys, Levy unlocked the cellar. A rat scurried away between her feet and she shrieked in surprise. Leaning back against the dusty old door, she took a deep breath as the animal fled down the hallway. Hearing her loyal laugh heartedly at her expense, she sneered back at the knight before stepping into the cell.

The corpse was lying on the floor, the flesh rotten away with only tiny dried out parts of the tissue left. It seemed the man had struggled in his last hour, the corpse's hands over its throat as though suffocating. He must have had some kind of attack. With the guards gone, there was no one around that might have helped him.

Looking around the small stone room, she was a little surprised it felt safer than the tunnels beyond, even with the decomposing body inside. That's when she realised she couldn't feel the sinister magic any more and frowned in confusion.

A rat had been in here, most likely gnawing the past pieces off the corpse, while the rest of the labyrinth was free from any vermin. It was another clear sign. The magic was inactive in this cell.

Walking back to the door, she stepped outside and at once sensed the odd aura creeping back. She took one step back and one forward a few times before turning to the door and inspecting it closely. Small runes had been etched into the outside of the metal.

She retraced them lightly and felt the friendly energy humming under her fingers. It was an ancient writing, a spell formulated in the scholars language.

'No passage shalt be granted the dark one's curse.'

“Did you find something?”, Serena asked. He didn't move closer as the door was still open and the stench stronger than ever before. He had no interest whatsoever in seeing the corpse within, even if logic told him it would be little more than a skeleton after twenty years, that the smell was the only part of the decomposition still lingering here.

“These doors ward off magic”, Levy said amazed and he nodded. “Yes, to protect the prisoners. The aim is not to let them go insane in their cells after all.” “And to contain mages, of course”, he added. It was rare that mages were imprisoned, but it happened as well and that mostly without anyone being aware of their talents.

Levy highly doubted that containing mages was part of the equation. The writing was quite clear about the intended magic to ward off. Only very few could read the scholars language, though, so it didn't come as a great surprise that the guards would believe such a thing.

The secrets of these runes were only ever taught from scholar to scholar. There was no book translating them, for their entire structure was so deeply entwined with the essence of magic itself, it was almost impossible to describe them in terms that could be brought to paper. One simply had to understand them by themselves.

Her father had taught her the basics of this language, the ten main runes. The rest, she had figured out by reading more and bringing the runes into context. This hardly made her an expert on the matter, but she could understand most of it by now.

“Truly remarkable”, Levy smiled. She closed the door again and nodded a little. This cell would do just fine once it was cleared out. It wasn't dangerous to be down here, just creepy, and escape was not to think of with the door, the aura and the guards. The stench would be removed in the same manner as it was after any slaughter, a thorough cleaning of all floors and walls, all surfaces that it could possibly cling to.

While inspecting a few more cells, a disturbing pattern made itself known to the chair. Not only did each cell hold a corpse, they had all died rather suddenly. None were lying on their bed, weak from starvation and finally falling into their last slumber. All were they on the floor in an uncomfortable position, either clawing at their throats or the wall. And in each cell, a metal soup bowl and the rests of a wooden spoon still lay.

She closed her eyes in a dejected sigh as the pieces fell into place in her mind. “By the gods.”

“What's wrong?”, Gajeel wondered, appearing at her side. His red eyes inspected the corpse as well to try and find what had caused this reaction. “Oh”, he finally made and the bluenette reopened her eyes, looking up and him worriedly.

These criminals had been executed with some form of poison, mixed into their final meal. It had struck the scholar as strange to just let them starve to death in their cells. It would have been unsafe to leave the prisoners alive and without guards for the time it took until they met the gods on their own. Someone could have used the opportunity to free them and cause a real havoc in the flowering capital. This, however, was not the turn of events she had hoped for.

The way this execution had been performed was not in the least humane, and it wouldn't surprise her if they found out that men and women that hadn't been convicted for life, that were merely supposed to be here for a few years or months, had been killed in this same painful way. Whoever did this was not trying to ease their passing but had committed vicious mass murder, almost two thousand prisoners the victims.

“Probably a single councillor's or guard's call”, Levy reasoned. Her champion nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the scene. With this knowledge, it was an uncomfortable sight even to him. “What do you need me to do?”, he wondered quietly.

This was absolutely not an authorised method to deal with prisoners, not under the rule of E. Fiore and not now. If the people knew, there would be hell to pay. There would be demands for justice, for them to find the culprit, a virtually impossible task. And to use the dungeons after a scandal like this was sheer unthinkable.

There was no other alternative. If the numerous prisoners were to be kept both safely and in a cell of humane size, they needed this dungeon. The situation was not only unsustainable, it was dire. People were almost standing on another's feet in the barracks. They simply couldn't let anything get in the way of this dungeon reopening.

Levy sighed again and looked over at the guards that were with them. Gajeel, she knew she didn't have to worry about, and Serena, she was sure she could reason with, but the other three castle guards, she didn't even know by name.

This was bad. She had to talk to Laxus and solve this at once.

“Serena, lead us back”, she ordered while closing the cell again. “Yes, My Lady”, he nodded stiffly. He too seemed to have connected the dots by now. The three castle guards looked more uneasy than ever before, but she couldn't say how much they had understood so far. Either, they had figured it out, or it was merely the sinister aura that was nagging them. Whatever the case, she had to make sure they didn't talk about the dead found here.

By the open wood doors, Morley still stood. He hadn't taken the excuse and walked away, all of them knowing very well that his sudden sickness had little to do with anything a healer could remedy. Under different circumstances, Levy would have appreciated the honesty his behaviour reflected, but as it was now, he was just another problem to take care of.

He apologised at once for staying behind as he spotted Levy, but she waved it off disinterested. “Don't worry about it and be glad you aren't used to this kind of thing”, she ensured the young man.

She would have loved to let him walk, but he had both smelled the corpses and seen his comrades return with pale faces. He too needed to be silenced. She motioned him back in line, had the doors closed, and walked with all six men back up the spiral staircase.

Leading them straight to one of the empty meeting halls of the castle, she ordered them all inside. Turning to Gajeel, she firmly stated, “No one gets in or out until I'm back. And no talking.” The knight nodded and demonstratively positioned himself beside the door.

“My Lady?”, Serena asked worriedly, but she swiftly and wordlessly left the room. She had to find Laxus, and that as quickly as possible.

  



	3. The Shadow Guard

Levy walked into the throne room where the king was currently holding audiences. The blonde was sitting on the finely decorated chair in a powerful pose. It was a good look on him, the crown and fine gown fitting his impressive statue.

On either side of him, a Fairy Tail flag hung, the white symbol stitched carefully onto orange cloth. The seamstress Kinana had supervised the work, leading and teaching the other women. She had made numerous of the Fairy Tail Guards' flags back in Magnolia Town before she followed Cobra to Crocus. She still knew the pattern for the symbol by heart.

The bright cloth was a harsh contrast to the grey stone of the castle walls, but fit very well with the intricate designs of the stained glass windows of the throne room. Now that they were cleaned again, their imagery once more ghosted over the flooring in their entire beauty whenever the sun shone through them.

The story displayed was that of the capital and the war that led to its founding. The city was not near any creak or in a rich valley. It hadn't emerged naturally as most others, people settling one after another to finally start electing mayors and uniting into fiefdoms and kingdoms. It had been placed in the very middle of Fiore after the land had been conquered and united under the now obsolete golden flower flag.

In this position, the city was dependant upon deliveries from its surroundings. It was to ease this problem that Crocus Rove had been erected to begin with. The grand trading route cut through the country from the north all the way to the southern ruins of Akane and on its path pierced right though the heart of Crocus itself.

The capital was however a very good strategic point for the castle of The Crown, the home of the royal family. In the very middle of the land, it was easy to distribute troops from it and bring reinforcements to it. The mountains of Crocus Rise that gave the city its name protected it to the east and grand Lucilia Rise made sure it wasn't too easy to reach from the less populated western end of the country. These factors made the flowering capital one of the safest cities in all of Fiore.

The first window of the throne room told of the very beginning, the time described in the very first volumes of Fiore's Historical Archive where all knowledge they had on the subject was gathered.

It all started with a young man named Poll E. Fiore. He was an incredibly skilled swordsman. Some say he was the son of a knight or guard, but the most plausible explanation was that he began as a petty thief, a poor kid that didn't have much and had to fight for survival each and every day.

He had a knack for manipulating people and quickly gathered followers around himself. After establishing his power in his home town and the surrounding land through a mixture of cruelty and compassion, he went on a long series of bloody conquests. Again, the historians' accounts divided. Some described him as a power crazed and hungry man while others praised him as the liberator that managed to untie the many small fractions that occupied the land into one functioning country, one without brutal civil wars.

The second window made a show of his greatest war, the struggle against the kingdoms of Seven and Bosco. Both kingdoms had laid claim to some of the land that Poll E. Fiore considered himself to have conquered and he was not willing to negotiate with them.

The dispute had been about the East Cut River, an area that had been neutral ground for so long, everyone thought it rightfully belonged to them. Their enemy being a new king they had not yet acknowledged, the long lasting dynasties were not eager to let go of their claim on the rich strip of land and the river that had enabled them to trade with another by water for many, many years.

Especially the kingdom of Seven wasn't eager to loose their connection to Minstrel. Without the river, their only tax free trading route to the great country would lead them all the way around Fiore's western side. It would take weeks, even with favouring winds.

The war cost thousands of lives, but the E. Fiore family prevailed. They held their ground until both neighbouring kingdoms gave in almost fifty years later. To this day, the river formed an incredibly important transport route between the northern and southern side of Fiore. Had it not been for this war, Akane, the home of Jessalyn Freeheart, would have been part of Bosco, and the bandit leader would have been executed long before she could become anything more than that.

The third window showed the birth of the flowering capital itself. Builders were all that walked though the streets of the young city. Houses and markets were erected, plaza's evened out and gardens planted. Many decades had passed since the great wars and the project was rumoured a narcissistic craze of the royals. Whatever the case, the city still stood today and it was still a fortes to reckon with.

When the new capital didn't draw enough inhabitants from the towns and villages to truly flourish, the third king of Fiore ordered the builders to create a great monument, something that could be seen from beyond the high walls, something that would go down in history. This did not help the image of the royals of the time, but it did work as intended, drawing travellers, merchants, and thus also new inhabitants to Crocus.

This was what the fourth and final window depicted, the construction of Mercurius itself, shining gold decorating the numerous tips and details of its exterior. And at the open doors stood the king and queen, their heads held high and the ceremonial crowns in their hair.

At this time, the crowns had still been far more pompous. As recently as five generations ago had they been remade into more elegant circles. These new head ornaments still used the same gold and rubies as the original heavy crowns had been made of all those years ago. They were modernised versions of the same old symbol of power.

The initial plan for the throne room décor had been to tell the story of the gods and the creation of the world, but since the Crocus Church already held such imagery, detailed on fourteen huge windows crafted by the most skilled glaziers of their time, this design had won out when it was time to set the windows of the grand hall.

Levy drew her eyes from the panes again.

At the king's side stood his royal guard Evergreen and an assisting castle guard, both vigil and silent. A scribe was sitting a little further from him, noting down what was discussed. He wrote in phonetic symbols only trained scribes could understand. It was the best way to capture words on paper as quickly as they were spoken. The entire writing would then be translated into a readable text when the scribe had the time.

Mirajane was in the hall as well. She sat in a comfortable chair in the right side of the room, listening with interest to the conversations her husband had with the men and women that came to him with their concerns.

Michello wasn't here since he lay ill in his quarters and Rose was far too preoccupied to lend her counselling, just as Levy. This surely didn't make the situation easier for the young sovereign. If he made a promise, they would have to keep it, but the blonde was well aware of their financial situation and smart enough not to say too much.

Levy walked a little further into the hall until Laxus's orange eyes found her. Stopping, she gave him a meaning look so he would know she needed a word. The king gave a tiny nod before turning his attention back to the man kneeling by the lowest step of the platform his throne resided upon.

The young man was dressed in plain robes of high quality, making it clear he was important, but not noble. The stitching of a red Dahlia flower on his cape left little doubt as to his origin. He had been sent by the city lord of Dahlia.

The city was located to the north, on the western side of a headland named after it, Dahlia's Head. It formed the northern end of Crocus Rove. The broad cobblestone road met the second arm of the river North Creak and followed it all the way up to the centre of the wooden harbour city and out to its numerous piers.

Despite this formidable connection and the grand harbour, they had little active trade these days. The town of Waas that sat in the delta of the East Cut River was simply that much closer to their neighbouring nation Seven. Via the eastern river, one could reach down to the southern Akane Bay much faster than by land and that without carts, horses or caravan guards.

The messenger elaborated on this in great detail to the king. “This trade by water of course passes Crocus by as well. The route from Hargeon up to the capital is far longer compared to the distance between Dahlia and Crocus, and there is no assisting river following its path either. Thus, my lord's proposal”, he explained his intentions.

Levy could tell he was a well read man, and gifted with a silvery tongue. He was selling his concept very well, making his case not just for his own home, but also for the city of the king. It was a cogent argument.

“Help us build a road that cuts across Dahlia's Head and erect an external harbour on its eastern coast. The traders from Seven will flock to it and travel down Crocus Rove into the capital. Trade will flourish and coin flow”, the man finished his proposal with a swaying imagery.

Laxus looked thoughtful. It was obvious that the messenger's words had impressed him, but he wasn't dumb. He could tell that the man standing before him spoke in a persuasive way and would say anything to convince him. Glad to have an adviser at his side at last, he looked to Levy and asked, “What do you say, Chair?”

The bluenette cleared her throat and walked up the few stone steps to stand by his side. “It is true that Waas is taking most of the trade from Seven and that this is not beneficial for the capital. Dahlia has a great reputation as trading centre since before the years of chaos and I am sure Seven would be glad to re-establish their connections there. They would surely appreciate having the capital of Fiore on their route as well, but Crocus Rove is hardly fit for travel these days and building a new road is far from our highest priority at the moment. My advise is to leave the proposal unanswered for now”, she said.

The messenger clearly didn't appreciate her words, forcing back a scowl at her analysis. He too had seen that the king was considering what he had said and he had hoped for a quick answer, a royal promise he could count on and bring back to his lord.

“Right you are”, Laxus nodded to the bluenette. “I will consider your proposal. You may leave”, he stated and the messenger bowed low before getting up and walking back out of the grand hall in a stiff manner.

Laxus turned back to his councillor as soon as the man had passed the door. “I take It you aren't just here to fill in for Michello.” “Not here”, Levy stated with a small shake of her head and the blonde got up to follow her to a private room.

When Laxus passed his wife, they exchanged a small smile.

She tried to encourage him whenever she could, knowing all too well what a hard time he had keeping up with all the work his position brought with it. Her job was easy in comparison. She just had to stay by his side and smile when they greeted the people of Fiore.

That, and try to get pregnant to secure the heritage of The Crown. The old historian had been quite crude about it, explaining the importance of her role in a less than charming way. “We don't want to repeat the history of Hisui and Toma E. Fiore, now do we?” That meant more than one child in the end. Not that she minded that notion in the least.

Laxus hated that he didn't have the time to really pay his wife the attention she deserved, but he was constantly swarmed and she understood that. She saw the way he fought to stay ahead, to re-establish a kingdom that would withstand the test of time. He was just glad she didn't mind staying by his side while he did.

Following Levy into her personal study, the king took a seat in one of the wide arm chairs. The entire room held more resemblance to a library than a study now that she had spread out her work. The desk was swarmed and the shelves around them were all filled to the brink with scriptures, notes and books. Even now that she had taught him to read properly, he would probably only understand a third of the writings.

Watching the scholar closely, he saw that she kept rubbing her hands together in agitation and raised an eyebrow to repeat his question. What was so important that she interrupted his audiences? And why the secrecy? Now that he started wondering, where was Gajeel all of a sudden? Something was wrong.

“I was down in the dungeons today. We need them in order to make space for our prisoners. The situation at the barracks really is dire. I looked for myself. The men and women can hardly turn around, packed as they stand”, Levy began.

“But?”, the king prompted and the scholar finally sat down at her desk. “The dungeons are filled with skeletons and it reeks of death. When the guards left, all the prisoners were killed, poisoned most likely. I don't know with what, but it was quick and painful. The prisoners are still in their dying poses, hands on their throats or desperately scratching the walls while they sunk together on the floor.”

“Nice”, Laxus said sarcastically, sure he wouldn't get that imagery out of his head again any time soon. “So clear them out.” “No”, Levy stated and he furrowed his eyebrows. “No?”, he repeated questioningly. As far as he had understood, they had little other options. There were no other places were they could put their prisoners and they sure as hell didn't have the resources to build new dungeons.

“What do you think will happen if the people find out that all the prisoners, not just the murderers, traitors and rapists that were sentenced to life in prison or death, but also the simple thieves and brawlers, were all murdered? The inhabitants of Crocus have lived over a mass grave for twenty years. Almost two thousand men and women rotted away down there, no explanation for their disappearance ever given to their families, and we haven't the slighted clue as to who might have killed them.”

The blonde let that information sink in for a moment. While it wasn't their doing and there was no current danger in the labyrinth, he knew just as well as the scholar that humans were not rational beings. They wouldn't see it that way. “There would be an uproar if we try to use the dungeon again”, he finally stated and Levy nodded in agreement.

“And you propose what?”, the king asked and the bluenette shrugged. “For once, I don't know. But we have to cover this up somehow, and quickly too. So far, only you, me, Gajeel, Serena, and four castle guards know anything. I have them locked in in one of the meeting halls.”

“Good work”, Laxus praised.

For once, he was the one that knew exactly what to do, or at least who needed to be doing it. Levy had a brilliant mind, but he had contacts.

He stood and opened the door into the hallway. Gaining eye contact with Evergreen, he ordered, “Get me Bickslow. Right now.” The archer bowed shortly before hurrying away to fetch the man, leaving her liege's protection to the other castle guard in the meantime.

“Bickslow?”, Levy asked bewildered and the blond man closed the door again before speaking. “He is a brilliant rogue with a talent for secrets. If anyone can cover up a crime of this scale, it is him”, he stated matter of factly.

 

Evergreen hurried to her friend's chambers. She tried to knock first, but the man didn't stir. It came as no great surprise to her. The royal guard had watched over the king just recently before she had gone on her own shift five hours ago. He must be very tired. She would have loved to let him sleep, but she had orders.

Pushing the door into his quarters open, she called out for the rogue. When there was still no answer, she hissed in irritation, “I know you can hear me.”

Bickslow never slept very deeply. It had been trained from him when he was still little. He was awake, just not eager to get up. Several minutes passed, but the rogue made no move to admit he had woken.

“I'm not leaving”, Evergreen stated matter of factly and the man finally gave in. “What?!”, he asked loudly, a more than sour tone to his voice.

“Laxus asked for you. Him and Levy are waiting for you in her study. Something is up”, the archer told him and he gave a disgruntled huff before rubbing his eyes and slowly rising out of bed. Getting dressed, he stumbled out of his room with irritation written all over his face. He was not a morning person and due to his light sleep definitively not one that was rested after mere five hours.

Following the brown haired woman to the study in a lazy stride, he entered the room and straightened his back at least a little more.

He could tell that whatever they needed him for was important. Laxus was sitting in an armchair and Levy was at her table, but there was a distinct air of seriousness between them.

“Yes, My King?”, he asked and couldn't help the yawn following the question. “Sorry”, he mumbled, clearing his throat.

“Sorry to wake you this soon, but there is work for you”, Laxus apologised, excluding Evergreen from their conversation by motioning her to close the door again.

While he didn't like keeping secrets from his three most trusted friends, it was simply safer to let as few people as possible know about the things they were now going to discuss. It was for her own sake that she wasn't allowed to know.

Levy explained the situation to the rogue and he quickly found his focus, waking up properly. Not that he couldn't have forced himself into this state of clarity at once, but he only pushed for such sudden wake ups when he really had to, like for example an attack. Or this kind of work.

It was perfect for him. The new position this situation called for was like made for a rogue with his special talents. Grinning a little, he ensured them, “Leave it to me. Lies and secrets are my speciality. I know exactly how to make this go away.”

After elaborating his plans to the king and the chair, he led on toward the guards that Levy had isolated.

Striding into the meeting hall with a bright grin, he managed to unsettle the five guards sitting around the oblong table in an instant. Only Gajeel didn't worry about the manic expression plastered on the royal guard's face. The knight knew that Bickslow was a trustworthy man underneath his odd mask and creepy demeanour.

When the king and chair entered, he bowed and then closed the door behind the tall blonde and small the blue haired scholar. The other guards only tensed up further as they spotted the two nobles. They already knew that Levy was involved, but what could the king of Fiore himself possibly want from them? It could surely not be anything good. Would they be killed for what they had seen?

The architects of great castles like this one were often killed once their work was finished to ensure they couldn't speak its secrets to anyone else. That thought unsettled the group now that they had seen the dungeons and explored its tunnels.

Bickslow leaned against the table casually and looked around at the worried men slowly, assessing each one individually. He was looking for something unspecific on each one before finally proceeding.

“Good news guys”, he began in an amused chuckle. “We are going to create a new guard troop, a very special one. It will go by the name Shadow Guards and I'm the new guard master. You may call me Shadow Master from now on. This is all top secret of course.”

His grin grew waggish as the guards exchanged bewildered glances. “And the best part is that you lot now are part of this new troop.”

Walking around the table in a slow stride, he handed them each a piece of black cloth. “The dungeons are filled with dead. They were killed by someone and we don't know who. But! The people currently in this room are the only ones that know about that and we will make sure to keep it that way”, he continued cheerfully.

“Breathe a word of it even to an empty room and I will find you and I will kill you. No edge of this world is remote or dark enough to hide from me. Got it?”, he asked happily and the men sat in a scared and thick silence.

Everyone in the Mercurius Guard had heard of the rogue. Even in the short time since the troop had been reinstated, the creepy man constantly hiding behind a mask had made a name for himself. Some said he was an assassin and had to protect his identity. Others claimed he had been in countless battles, murdered dozens of men single handedly and gained scarring that horridly disfigured his facial traits. Bickslow never did anything to counteract these claims as he quite enjoyed his image as the twisted rogue at the king's side.

“I asked if you got that, Shadow Guards”, he hissed darkly and the men stood with a start. Levy cringed as the chairs giving an uncomfortable scraping sound against the flooring from the quick movement. “Yes Sir!”, the guards chimed in union and Bickslow gave a chuckle, happy like a child on Christmas. “I love this job already”

Laxus shook his head in amusement at his friends behaviour. It was so typical of him, creating a theatre that was well worth watching and yet retained an impeccable effectiveness. That was the rogue's way, scaring the living hell out of the men without as much as presenting his daggers to them.

Bickslow motioned the guards to sit back down. “The cloth is your new sign. Tie it over your wrist, over the armour. If I see you without it... just don't let me catch you without it”, he stated and the men swallowed hard.

“Even among the Shadow Guards, you will not speak of today. You will deny knowing anything. The dungeons were empty when you got there. Nothing odd, nothing to see. You will not document or note down anything unless otherwise instructed by me, the chair or the king himself. You will not report to anyone but us while on Shadow Guard duty”, he instructed.

“Your former positions are gone so you will have to remove your armour ornaments”, the rogue finally said and the guards obediently removed the small cordiform ornament of the castle guard. Serena had already put aside the silvery crocus flower pin of the city guard when leaving the barracks this morning.

Gajeel was the only one spared the black cloth. He was already the black steel knight and he was a champion of the chair, a knight of high standing. Anyone that had a reason to know he was involved would recognise him without the need of any token.

“Dead, huh?”, Morley asked in a shaky voice. “Yes”, Levy stated, catching the men's attention.

She walked up to the table and explained why it was imperative they hold their peace. She always believed that orders should be given with an explanation if possible, that rational thinking would win out in the end. If the men knew why they had been picked out, they would follow their new rules with conviction.

“Does this mean we have to clean out the corpses?”, Morley asked worriedly and Levy shrugged. “It hasn't been decided yet, but it is likely that this task will fall to the Shadow Guard, yes. You are thus far the only members.” “Great”, the man sighed dejected and Serena gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“As for you, Serena”, Levy said and the green haired man looked up. “As soon as the dungeons are cleared and ready to use, you will become a commander of this guard troop. You will be the head jailer of Crocus.” The man's eyes went wide at that and a smile tugged at his lips. “Head Jailer, I like that title. It will bear it with honour”, he said happily.

Rose was informed that the Shadow Guard had been created, but didn't get any more concrete answers from the Shadow Master than anyone else would. The rogue was very good at keeping the secrets he had collected and this one was just the tip of the iceberg.

He also discussed with The Chair and his king about contacting an old acquaintance of his. The man was a rouge as well and had a small discrete troop of specialists behind him. Giving Bickslow full oversight over his new guard troop, Laxus agreed to it.

The rogue really, really, liked his new title, much to his friends' annoyance.

Word of the new secret guard troop quickly spread through the ranks and not much later, Bickslow had established a base of fifteen Shadow Guards beyond the founding members.

These new guards were at least a little happier to be there, even if it meant collecting skeletons and washing away the stench their decomposed flesh had left behind. These guards had at least been asked before they got to exchange their former symbol for a black cloth and were introduced to the big cover up.

With the new manpower at his disposal, Bickslow made good progress clearing the cells. Levy and Serena had scoped out a dead end in the labyrinth that was a little further away from any cells. They would move all the bodies there and wall them in. They couldn't move the dead out without people taking notice, so they had to create a grave within the tunnels themselves.

As soon as the body was moved from a cell, the room had to be cleaned in order to fight the odour. Levy helped out greatly with that, by boosting morale with her presence in the stench infested dungeons, as well as practically, conjuring up larger quantities of water so the guards didn't need to run back and forth with buckets as much.

It was a welcome change to the constant obligations as chair and the entire endeavour also turned out to be quite educational. Levy picked up on the Shadow Master's leadership techniques, namely intimidation and team building, and learned how to purify areas with magic alone.

It was a process that required a lot of focus from her. The writing of the word 'pure' had to be performed clearly and genuinely. The memory she utilised was that of Jessalyn cleaning the blade of her dagger on Gajeel's tunic after he had used it to give his blood oath to serve Levy as loyal. The emotion connected to that moment seven years ago was easily strong enough and it was a feeling of cleansing. In that moment, the knight had put behind himself his past as Phantom and decided to dedicate himself to a new cause, a better cause. He had purified himself in the eyes of his new liege.

Levy asked Rose to build a force of jailers while the secret work in the dungeons was in progress so they might start working at once when it was finished.

The selected guards and soldiers didn't need to be very strong physically or even particularly good fighters. What was imperative was that they were equipped a strong will and calm mind. This description gave her a lot of rogues and arbalists despite the fact that the majority of their forces were knights and swordsmen. The laughable amount of archers among the selection was simply due to the nationwide lack thereof.

Serena was put in charge of these men and women. He spent weeks training them on the surface. They learned the walking patterns of the dungeons just as he had learned them before starting out as jailer many years ago. Blindfolded, they walked the patterns down over and over again in the yard in front of Mercurius. The sound of their restless steps on the pavement came across as extra loud in contrast to their quiet training.

Once they went below the surface, they had to keep their focus. The jailers had to walk in groups of at least three and never ever stray from their path, not even for a prisoner. It was a dangerous job they had signed up for where discipline and calm was key. If you lost your way, it would be hard to get back out in time.

The three jailers that were grouped together had to trust another and make sure their comrades didn't slip up. That's why silence was their greatest virtue. Focused silence, only their steps echoing through the tunnels as they walked the same patterns every single day, that had always been the strength and survival technique of the jailers of the Crocus Dungeons, and under the leadership of Serena it would once more become their epitaph.

It was said that a man that had worked as jailer here could no longer be unnerved, his focus not be broken and his silence not be forced to an end. These were qualities that intrigued Bickslow greatly.

In his guard troop, he had a few slightly magically gifted people that thus could find their way around the dungeons and lead the others during their cleaning work, but after a few years of service in the dungeons, the jailers would be disciplined beyond what even he brought to day. They would make ideal candidates to join the Shadow Guard once they were replaced in the dungeons.

He found himself watching them training in the yard for hours at a time, memorising the patterns as well.

 


	4. Sister Dear

Rose walked out of the castle in the early morning hours. Living in such huge stone halls was a little odd to her, having stayed in small rooms of wood or tents the greatest part of her life. The grey walls felt cold in contrast and the city around them was vast, not allowing her to ride through the woods for a couple of hours without a bit of planning. At least there were the huge gardens to enjoy and the closest one was right by the door.

Rose argued that the castle gardens had become more beautiful than ever before, now that moss and grass had invaded the walkways and the bushes had been allowed to grow freely into their natural shapes. Her opinion did however not persuade the gardener and the restoration work had already begun. It was a shame, but she wasn't awfully sentimental.

She followed one of the artificial creeks that ran beside the path. Lined with round stones and pebbles, the small streams wound from the fountain on the other end of the garden all the way to the castle where they disappeared behind grids and joined the sewers. Besides looking beautiful and adding a calm trickling sound to the mix of soaring insects and rustling leaves, they also made it completely unnecessary to water the large eden even during the worst of droughts.

Between the wild boxwood and other evergreen, small silvery sculptures of crocus flowers had been placed among the living equivalents. Each and every last one of them was a piece of art, beautifully ornamented and unique. Even in the winter, when a thin blanket of snow covered the ground and the streams had solidified into clear ice, these metal decorations gave life to the gardens.

They were made by the smiths of Crocus. Each time an apprentice became a master, he placed a flower of his own making in this garden to commemorate the day. Thus, they effectively represented the men that forged the armour and weaponry for the royal army and all the guards.

Smithery was a very reputable job despite the relatively low pay. Many of the craftsmen were famous enough that a person with trained eye might identify their flower without having to look for the smith’s signature. Rose herself could recognise at least the metal crocus that the farrier Rogue Cheney had made.

There were also classic statues to be found in the garden, busts of former kings and generals or an imagery of significance to their person. And there were of course numerous graves. In the corners between shrubs or under stones lining the walkways, many men and a few fine ladies had their last resting place, a headstone or small plaque marking the spot.

Hisui and Toma E. Fiore were buried here. Their graves were near the middle. That of the little girl featured a statue of her horse rearing up, the cause of her death. The king's grave was simple, but a flat slab of stone with his name on it. The chaos that ensued after his demise left little time to do more.

Reaching the centre of the gardens, Rose encountered an all too familiar scene.

Standing in the middle of the botanic wonderland was Kageyama. He was praying by the simple cenotaph that had been erected in honour of the fallen on Crocus Rove. It was no more than cheap granite standing in the grass, names of the fallen etched into the stone on every side, but it held great significance especially to those that knew the fallen.

The swordsman's helmet was sitting in on a bench nearby as he held his hand over the name of his former comrade with a lowered head. Being the guard master, he was stationed in the barracks on the very other side of the city, but she often saw him here, whispering to the spirits that were anchored to this place.

“Here again?”, Rose asked to make herself known and the black haired man looked up with a start. He let go of the stone pillar, revealing the name. 'Erigor, loyal knight of Jessalyn Freeheart'.

The man would have had good chances escaping the carnage had he stayed at Rose's side, but he didn't hesitate to throw himself into battle for his liege even when she was already on the ground, defeated and bleeding out. Rose, along with many others, held great respect for the knight that lived and died by his vow despite the inevitable outcome of that ambush.

“I miss him. He was a dedicated loyal and a great friend. I would have laid down my life for him”, the swordsman mumbled. “He was a great man, but it was quite enough that one of you died for Jess”, the redhead stated and he huffed a little. “If you say so.”

More than a year had passed since the slaughter on Crocus Rove, since he had seen the men and women retreat to Hargeon in a frenzied gallop. He had been able to tell at once by the chaos that had erupted among the solders, the blood that was splattered over armour and barding, but it still drove a dagger through his heart when the survivors confirmed it for him. They were dead. Both Jessalyn and Erigor had died at the hands of the Phantom Lord Bandits.

Had he been there...

There was probably not much he could have done to change the fate of his liege or his friend, but it still irked him that he hadn't been by her side to do the same, to fight until his last breath for her. “I swore to her. To always protect her, that my blood would be spilled before I ever saw a drop of hers”, he said.

It was a foolish statement. He knew that the high constable was perfectly aware of his oath. There was hardly any need to explain this concept to a Freeheart woman. She herself still had a loyal, the one eyed swordsman Cobra.

“Well, you didn't see it”, Rose pointed out and the guard master shook his head in disbelief. “To hear that coming from you of all people”, he chuckled. He knew she hadn't said it out of a habit to go nitpicking but solely to make him feel better, and it had the intended effect.

He had been ordered to stay behind in the harbour city and wait for the arrival of the Fairy Tail Guard by Jessalyn herself. What was he supposed to do? Defy his liege? Never. He considered thanking the redhead for her kind words, but figured she would just find it annoying if he did. She never was one for sentiment.

Turning to the high constable entirely, he changed the subject instead, “And you, teasing me for coming here, you are here for Jessalyn as well, aren't you?” “And for Curtis of course”, he added. It hadn't gone past him that she too walked around these gardens more often than most other soldiers. She rarely stopped by the cenotaph, but her eyes always found the knight's name as she passed it to visit her sister's grave.

“I guess”, the redhead admitted. There was little point in denying she had been close to the man. While Curtis and Kageyama hadn’t been friends, they had been loyals to the same woman. The swordsman knew what was going on long before her sister got wind of it.

“And the king, he must mourn my liege as well”, he continued. He had seen the blond man stand by the smaller gravestone dedicated to the former bandit leader many times, whispering something to the wind. If it were prayers or not, he couldn't say. He always kept a respectable distance to the sovereign unless ordered otherwise.

“I think he mostly mourns his unborn child”, Rose pointed out. He loved someone else, now, and even back when he lay with Jessalyn.

It had hit the king hard when she told him about the child. Again, Jessalyn had known best, deciding not to tell him about it as not to disrupt his focus on getting the crown. The woman had always said she would tell him later, after the quest was done, but Rose doubted it. She believed in what she told the king, that Jessalyn had abstained from telling him so that he could marry Mirajane with a clear conscience.

In the end, it wouldn't have mattered if she really liked the man or not. She would not have asked him to bind himself to her, and not because she would have been too seemly to do so. The lilac haired woman had always been like that, putting others before herself in every aspect of her life. She was the one that lay her hand in the fire whenever one of her bandits screwed up.

Once, she had done so quite literally, burning the tips of her fingers in order to calm the rage of the city lord of Zinla. Her loyal had stolen from his house. It was many years ago the crime had taken place, but the noble insisted on his right to revenge. Instead of handing the now old and fragile man over, Jessalyn took the punishment upon herself.

The aim had been to mutilate her hand. The lord had accepted this as alternative to cutting it off for the theft, but once her skin stared blistering and the smell of roasted flesh reached the noble’s nose, he let her off the hook.

The people that were present on that day still feared and respected the green eyed woman. She had watched her own hand cook over the fire without letting even a trace of the pain she felt ghost over her face. The lord's first born was very impressed with the bandit leader and still held good contact to her sister Rose now that he was the city lord himself, making it easy for the high constable to keep tabs on the place.

Jessalyn had paid for the orphans in Hargeon from her own gold, supporting the inn owner Ralph Whitetap with whatever she could spare and taking the children under her wing when they wanted to learn the art of sword fighting. This was how she ended up recruiting a lot of her younger bandits, by practically raising them herself.

And finally, she had agreed to go out on a long quest to crown a new king despite knowing she would face resistance. She hunted the Phantom Lord Bandits for moths at a time to drive them from the lands she had sworn to protect. She had put her life on the line for the people and in the end it killed her.

Jessalyn had been a leader and a great one at that. She had been kind and strong, fierce, yet fair-dealing, but the woman had not been perfect. Far from it. She had serious trust issues and could be rather crude in both her demands and her threats, and she was a woman that backed her threats up. Not seldom had unnecessary blood been spilled due to her lack of tact when interacting with other human beings. Many times had Rose fought and killed men because of her sister's ridiculous sense of entitlement.

Rose had long known that the two of them would have a falling out sooner or later. If Jessalyn had truly planned not to tell Laxus about his child, that would have constituted the first time Rose would have betray her trust.

Knowing that Laxus had intended to give the former bandit leader the position as high constable, Rose would have fought her sister for it. She considered herself to be better at her job than Jessalyn could have ever been. She was simply a far better diplomat.

She was sad to never have that confrontation.

Her sister had always been more of a leader than a sibling, but she had still been blood, been family. Having never known her parents, Rose held onto that fact with all of her heart. Now that last family member was gone as well and she was once more on her own. She was stronger now, independent and well able to defend herself, but it still hurt.

When Curtis Holt died in her arms, she cried, but for her sister, she hadn't even managed that. She still couldn't. It hurt too much to even consider allowing the grief in.

Leaving the guard master to his own prayers again, she walked over to the small headstone of her sister's grave and ran a hand over it, removing a little dirt and a leaf that had settled since the last visit. It wasn't even a proper burial site, only a dagger and not the body of the deceased resting in it.

The matching blade was still in Levy's possession. Since the young woman didn't have any training in its use, she didn't usually have it on her person, but it had a special spot on the scholar's bedside table. Levy favoured the short sword, just as Rose herself. It was what Gajeel had taught his liege after Jessalyn had ordered him to train the young bluenette so that she may be able to defend herself at least a little.

Holding her hand over the name of her sister, Rose spoke in a low voice, “I miss you Big Sis. I hope you're up there with Ophiuchus, drawing your rounds and watching us with Lilithen on your arm.”

She looked up at the sky. Only a few white clouds hung there, silent and tranquil. “Laxus is doing great. He is a good king. You really underestimated the lamb.” Nothing but silence met her and she sighed lightly, leaving the grave again.

Not that she had expected anything to happen.

She really wasn't much for prayers nor talking to the dead. They never answered any way. If they really were still out there, walking alongside the great snake that circled the skies of this world, then they could at least have the curtsy to check in once in a while. 

There were certainly a lot of unexplained forces out there, gods and perhaps something like spirits, but as far as she was concerned, once your heart gave in, you were gone, just gone, and there was nothing any magician or priest or anyone else could do about that.

Walking around Mercurius, she tried not to think of the deceased Freeheart, but as always when trying to repress something, the memories instead came bubbling up with force. The woman had taught Rose everything she knew. From a simple entertainment girl to the devils arbalist, the lilac haired bandit had been with her every step of the way.

Every time she fell, her sister had told her to get back up. Every bolt that missed its mark did she have to retrieve on her own, if it so took her hours. For every time she was defeated in combat, Jessalyn told her to stop crying and keep going. The green eyes watching her when she trained had been hard and stern, but also filled with worry.

She knew that the sole reason Jessalyn was so hard on her was because she cared, because she wouldn't accept loosing her little sister in battle. She had killed the rest of her family, either with her own hands or as consequence of the raids and fires of Akane. If she ever felt guilty for it or not, Rose couldn't say, but their loneliness in the world definitely facilitated her sister's harsh training regimen.

Rounding another high tower, Rose spotted the newly appointed shadow master, the only person that was allowed to know all of the royal family's secrets. She had long suspected that the rogue was more than just an expert in light blades. The visor was a hint. After the new developments, however, she knew for a fact that he was special.

No one had told her why there was a new guard troop that she didn't have command over or what they were doing in the dungeons. She was usually very good at reading people, but the rogue was a mystery. He let nothing show. The masked man probably held secrets that not even the sovereign himself knew about.

Bickslow was standing a fair bit away from the huge yard that spread out in front of the castle, watching as the jailers practised their strange patterns. They had been at it all night, walking hitter and titter in what looked like an uncoordinated scramble at the first glance. Soon, Serena would start his shift and check on them before the men were dismissed and he forced the other half of them to repeat the process during the day.

While the hooded rogue's eyes weren't visible through the slim slits of his visor, it was clear he was focused on the scene. The training of these guards seemed to hold a certain fascination to the rogue. Perhaps he could make sense of these patterns.

Seeing her opportunity, Rose ducked. The numerous feet against the stone ground were loud and she wasn't wearing her armour. In only cloth, she ought to be able to creep up on the man through the wild bushes. Taking the challenge, she carefully eased away from the castle walls, positioning herself right behind the royal guard before she started creeping forward.

When she was little, she had been rather good at sneaking. She used to creep about the whore house when she was avoiding work. Whenever found, she was beaten, so she learned quickly.

Creeping past the bushes, she made sure not to disturb the actual branches. She didn't want the leaves to rustle too much. Placing her feet with care, she was soon almost at the rogue's side. He still hadn't moved an inch, but she didn't trust the man's stance. It was far too stale. He had noticed her long ago, hadn't he?

Standing up, she put a hand on his shoulder with an unenthusiastic, “Bo.”

“You do know that you can't actually sneak up on me, right?”, the rogue asked in amusement, still not moving a muscle, and Rose crossed her arms over her chest. “You could have just told me you know I'm there”, she complained half heartedly and the man gave one of his odd giggles.

“I was interested to see what you could do”, he admitted. “And?”, she asked, a little curious just how bad her sneaking was compared to a professional rather than abusive, simple minded men. “Bad, but surprisingly little so for an untrained person”, he teased.

“Then teach me.”

That caused the rogue to react. He turned his head to her, but for some reason she still felt like he was watching the training rather than looking directly at her. “Why?”, he questioned sceptically.

“It might come in handy”, she shrugged, but he didn't buy it even for a second. You couldn't lie to the master of lies. “Why?”, he insisted.

Rose sighed at that. She didn't believe in spirits or ghosts, but it seemed her sister was still here to advise her from the grave. “Jessalyn used to say I should learn how to handle a dagger”, she told the inquisitive shadow master.

“Your sister was harsh even to you, huh?”, the man asked and she nodded. “Most of all.”

Bickslow turned his head back to the yard, considering whether he wanted to help the redhead. He held great respect for Jessalyn, but he wouldn't have helped her. The woman had been incredibly skilled, even able to teach him a few tricks, but she had also been trouble.

The way she handled things, spoke to people, it wasn't always right. He was also pretty sure that Laxus would have become a good leader much quicker if she hadn't treated him like a kid all the time. She had actually managed to make Laxus Dreyar feel insecure about his leadership abilities. It was an offence that could not be rectified.

What irked him most of all was that she had been a liar. Everyone had secrets, but she constantly kept speaking untruths. He could tell.

While everyone claimed the differ, he knew that she never really believed in his liege. She didn't think someone that had just become a man could lead a country and she lacked respect for the blonde because of his inexperience in the battlefield. She never actually trusted him and she would never have told him about his child.

Rose was her sister and she was just as strong and fierce, as determined to have her way. The redhead definitely had more couth than her sister, though. She had struck Laxus at one point, but she had never threatened to kill him. She was also the one that told him about Lilithen in the end and he could tell she didn't lie very often. Only when she manipulated someone did she fabricate.

“Freed is going to hate it, but okay. I'll teach you a few tricks”, he agreed. Rose gave a small nod and walked away without as much as a thank you.

Bickslow averted his eyes from the jailers to look after her for a moment. The woman was strange, stubborn, but also insecure. She wouldn't admit to gratitude, treating it like a weakness. There was some deep rooted fear in her, something from long before they met, something that she would never allow anyone to see. Being who he was, that intrigued him.

He met the redhead in the training range the very next day to guide her in the art of combat with daggers. She was skilled with the shortsword, which complicated things for him.

The strong straight strikes and firm foot placement she had initialised since she first held a weapon was the very opposite to what she needed to do now. Her complete stance was wrong, her point of balance far too low. The handling of a dagger required far more delicacy. You had to move, to sway, not hold a power stance. There was a reason it was called the daggers dance among his kin.

When he placed the dagger in her hand, she held it as he had placed it, _exactly_ as he had placed it. Her strong grip on the hilt didn't allow for any movement at all. It gave her a good angle to stab hard, but not to slash or even jab gently. When she held a sword, she always used the same grip, merely tilting the weapon with her arm and wrist. It wouldn't do if she wanted to be viable in battle with the smaller blade. It was all about mobility.

Taking, her hands, he guided her through the motions until she managed to follow them at least passably. First when she could parry cleanly did he meet her in sparring with a weapon of his own.

Rose was as aggressive as ever during battle, attacking head on even when she knew she couldn't get past her opponent’s defence. Bickslow didn't give any ground as he countered her attacks, motioning strikes to heart, stomach, and throat.

He could see that she was getting frustrated. The woman wasn't used to loosing a fight, and sure as hell not to be this harshly undermined. In this match and with only the unfamiliar equipment at hand, she would have died a hundred times over.

She stumbled and hissed, getting sloppier in her attempts.

It was a little comical to see the otherwise so calm high constable loose her temper for such a simple reason. Bickslow recognised himself in her, back when he tried to use a buckler. It was supposed to make a great addition to a light footed fighter's equipment, but the shield was of absolutely no use to him no matter how he held it. He had given up on it in the end and not without throwing the damned thing at his opponent first.

Despite that experience, he kinda wanted to see the redhead throw a hissy fit. He never claimed to be a very nice person.

“Are you aright there?”, he taunted and Rose scowled at him. She lunged forward, but he swiftly turned around, sidestepping her. His daggers still held toward the woman in defence, he cut her arm in the process. It surprised him as he felt the blade meet her skin. Had she held her own weapons correctly in this situation, the blades should have merely met and slid off another. He stopped at once, sheeting the two sharp knifes.

The redhead still held hers in hand as she tried to inspect the wound. She really wasn't made for a rogue's fighting style. Had the blades been any better sharpened or the edges been poisoned, she could have brought herself into serious danger with her careless handling of weaponry. Sighing lightly, he picked the daggers from her hands.

When Rose finally managed to twist her arm enough to see the wound, she gave a grunt of disapproval. “Seriously! This is why we wear armour. What is wrong with you rogue types and your flimsy cloth?”, she hissed, still fuelled by her frustration. “Hey, if you moved like a rogue, this wouldn't have happened”, Bickslow defended and she clicked her tongue in irritation.

He felt just a little bad that she had gotten injured while responding to his mockery, but it let him draw a conclusion at least. “Lets just clean the wound and call it a day, shall we? Tomorrow, I can show you some simple stabs against heavy armour instead. This isn't really your style after all”, he offered.

Rose took a deep breath to calm down. She knew that he was right. It was no secret that she wasn't the elegant and acrobatic type, no matter how much she would have loved to be. Giving a nod, she surrendered to her body's aching complaints.

Following the rogue back into the training range's small armoury, she tugged her belt and the ripped tunic off to ease access to the cut and sat down on one of the wooden benches. Reaching up with her uninjured arm, she eased the cloth bound over her breasts a little and sighed in relief.

The thick bandage was a necessity for her, but it was far from comfortable. Jessalyn had never minded her chest during fights, but Rose found that it hurt to jump around without the added support. She had envied her sister for that just a little bit.

Bickslow tried to ignore the casual manner in which Rose shed her clothes. She was a fighter and used to hanging around men in all states of undress, changing and even bathing in the open when need be. It didn't mean a thing.

He knew that, and yet, it was a terrible distraction. He had been in an all male training camp as kid and then served a guard troop with gender segregated baths the greatest part of his life, so he was not in the least used to this kind of behaviour. The time spent riding and camping with the Freehearts had been far from enough to counteract his upbringing.

He fetched a bowl of water and a rag to clean injury he had caused and sat down beside the almost topless woman. Dabbing the blood off her arm, he observed how she relaxed under his fingers. Her shoulders unwound, her breathing evened out and finally her eyes turned shut. He watched her intensely as he tended the wound, tying to make sense of the reaction.

Just for a moment, Rose felt like she was back in Hargeon, 25 and sparring with Curtis. He had been a tough opponent, able shove her back even from a still standing position. He had taken care of her after their sparring sessions like this whenever necessary. It had been bruises rather than cuts most of the time, but otherwise, it was very much like the current situation. She opened her eyes and looked back at the rogue.

Bickslow wrung the blood from the cloth before wetting it anew and lifting it to the arbalist's arm again.

He really couldn't make sense of her. Relaxed and looking back at him, there was not even the slightest trace of worry about her. Only his closes friends were this calm around him. Soldiers and guards, even other rogues never let their guard down when he was nearby, not to speak of when all alone with him. Rose wasn't just unafraid, her usual light insecurity was completely gone. Was it because he tended to her? Did that make her feel safe?

He took a firm hold of her arm and she hissed in pain. Frowning back at him, she waited for an explanation for his sudden aggression and Bickslow was perplexed.

Why wasn't she angry? Fair enough if she didn't fear him, but why didn't she care that he intentionally hurt her? How could she tell that he had a reason, that he was experimenting? Why in the world did she trust him like this? It made no sense.

Eyeing the woman sceptically, he let go again. “I usually understand people, but you are weird”, he stated and Rose raised her eyebrows, or at least the one without a scar that got in the way. “I'm the weird one? You just grabbed my injured arm”, she countered and a smirk spread over his lips.

“Yet you didn't even mind.” It wasn't much of a defence, but it might explain what he meant.

“I'm used to pain and I figured you had a reason”, Rose shrugged. She wasn't going to admit that she was merely being nostalgic. It was foolish.

The rogue tilted his head to the right a little, inspecting her from head to toe. “You had a relationship with someone. This reminds you of that person. True?”, he inquired and she straightened her back in surprise. “How did you?...”

“I can tell”, he merely smirked.

It was the only thing he could think of that made sense. She had been in this situation before and only good came from it. It had been so good in fact that she was allowed to forget all her old scars, to trust without any doubt. It wasn't him, but rather the experience they were sharing.

Himself, he couldn't deny that he was getting caught in the moment as well. It was so rare for him to experience this kind of faith from another and the woman that showed him this trust was beautiful and strong.

Leaning in closer, he searched her eyes one more time but still found no trace of hesitance or worry. Closing the distance, he pressed a kiss to her lips and Rose let out a breath she hadn't realised she held.

Initially, the rogue's lips felt heavenly against her own and she met them with enthusiasm, but it wasn't long before the memories of the last man she had loved ghosted across her mind again. She stilled, seeing the knight's death replay in her mind again.

Pulling back, she cursed herself for having allowed even this much. Never did she learn. Her heart couldn't take another break.

She wasn't going to let herself get involved with a loyal ever again. Her big sister had warned her the first time around. A loyal was a fighter that risked his life without a second thought. If he was just a little too slow, missed one step one single time, he would die and she would stand on her own again. That was exactly what happened in the end. Curtis had been just a little too careless.

The shadow master was no different. He had sworn his life to the king and would die for the blonde if need be.

She shook her head a little. No matter how funny and endearing the odd man could be, this was not even in the realm of the possible. “Never try to kiss me again”, she ordered firmly. While she couldn't meet his eyes, she at least glared at the visor.

Bickslow could see that he had hurt her feelings. He didn't really know how or why, but the fact was clear as day. Whatever had crossed her mind just now wasn't pretty. “Sorry.”

“Are you done with the cut?”, Rose asked and he refocused on the injury instead, washing it clean before they went separate ways.

The arbalist didn't mention what happened again. She turned up for their training until she had what she needed and then went back to ignoring him as before. The tension Bickslow's coaching caused him with Freed didn't really persuade him to tell anyone about that kiss either. The only thing hinting that it had ever happened was his desire to repeat it.  


	5. Mirajane Dreyar, Queen of Fiore

Mirajane never thought she would end up in Mercurius, not to mention as queen. Born into poverty, her and her siblings quickly turned into small time criminals and thieves to survive. Mirajane had feared for her life when was caught stealing at a young age and brought to the master of the Fairy Tail guards to be sentenced.

Makarov saw the feisty, vile curses spitting girl for what she was, a child, desperate to take care of her siblings now that both their parents were gone. He took in, not just the young thief, but also her little sister and brother. The elder made it possible for them to make a fresh start. Though, he did punish the little girl for her actions first.

A crime was a crime and as guard master, he could not simply ignore that she had broken the law. He had a responsibility to protect his town and decided to made a point of educating the three siblings by letting Mirajane atone for her sins. In order to pay the people back for the damage she had caused, she started working in the guard castle. She helped out in the kitchen, cleaned the gathering hall and served the guards.

When she had paid off her crime, Makarov let her stay and generously gave the three siblings a room in the back of the castle. Mirajane's little sister Lisanna helped out at the bar as well and her brother Elfman began training with the men. He grew huge quickly and could today count himself as one of the strongest fighters alive. He had single handedly ripped the doors of Mercurius out of their hinges when they took the crown a few months ago.

Now, both her younger siblings were back in Magnolia Town, protecting the east together with the rest of the Fairy Tail Guard. It had surprised her a little that Elfman didn't follow Evergreen back to the capital when she herself had accepted Laxus's proposal and left her home town for him.

She knew that her brother and the brown haired archer had a romantic relationship, but she wouldn't tell them what to do. It was their call if and when to admit their feelings to the world and commit to another.

For her, there hadn't been any doubt. She had loved Laxus for a very long time.

The day the blond man left on his grand quest, she had cursed her silence. Had she told him earlier, they might have had a romance, but she wasn't about to speak up just when he made to leave. She didn't ever want to be the damsel sitting at home, waiting for her betrothed to return to her. It was not her role. There was no way she would lock up her heart until she saw him again, hopefully in one piece.

She wouldn't deny that she had shed a tear, watching him ride away with his royal guards, but no matter how much it had saddened her, she was still convinced it had been the right decision for her. What if he hadn't returned? No, it had been better this way.

Seeing him disappear between the trees, she had been sure her chance was gone forever. She had given up on them and that only added to her shock when he returned to ask for her hand. Allowing her affection to return with full force, she had accepted, riding back with him to get married and stay by his side as his wife and queen.

Living in the guard castle and growing up alongside Laxus, she had seen the blonde go from a happy child to a teenager that could feel the weight of the world rest on his shoulders. The both of them were quite the opposites. At the time she calmed down and opened up, he closed himself in and became serious and stoic, never letting anyone in on what he felt or thought. It was no surprise after what happened.

A few days after the blonde's eleventh birthday, his father was hung for banditry. His grandfather had been the one to issue the order. The man had little choice in his position, but it struck the child through the heart that his family was shattered this way. The boy hadn't even turned up on the funeral.

From that point on, Laxus trained intensely. He wanted to be able to protect what was most important to him, his family, or what was left of it. In that aspect, the two of them were perfectly alike. Both were they fighting for the remainder of their family, one through theft and the other with sword in hand.

These days, the blond man was again looking grim. He had much more than just a family to protect now. He had the entire country to safeguard. With Levy as his chair, he had been able to balance his workload out somewhat, but now that the bluenette was taking care of some important job with the Shadow Guard, he was completely loosing his grip on the state affairs.

Laxus had always kept a very strict training schedule, but now he had abandoned it entirely and was still falling into bed in exhaustion every evening. It worried her that her husband pushed himself to his limits like this.

Once Michello was feeling better, he temporarily took charge of documenting the state affairs and also went over the reports form the different towns and cities around Fiore, summarising them to the king, but that was far from enough to make up for the chair's absence at The Table. 

The blue haired scholar’s influence had a lot to do with her personal involvement with the Freeheart Army, her role in the final battle and her modest dress despite her position in the castle. She was greatly respected by everyone and those that expected to meet her were not very good at hiding their disappointment when they were refereed to an elder that merely worked as adviser.

Especially scholars that came to the capital in the hopes of gaining access to the royal library and work with other brilliant minds seemed discouraged that she didn't take the time to meet them personally after she had extended an invitation to all scholars and mages to come see her.

Michello ensured them they would not just meet, but work closely together with the chair in the future. That promise did not quite satisfy the younger men that had packed up to follow her call. A need to prove themselves drove these young souls and they wanted to do so right away, not in some unspecific future.

They were here for the approval of the youngest scholar to ever sit at the kings table, the woman that had designed a siege weapon strong enough to break the walls of Mai, the mage that was rebuilding the Scholarship of The Crown, not for the evading words of an elder that had put his best years behind him long ago. 

It was causing a fair amount of distress in the scholarship that the members didn't feel satisfied with their welcoming comity and no one doubted that this was the reason no mages had made themselves known thus far.

The king would need men and women that could read and manipulate the obscure forces of the world at his side if he aimed to retain his title and create a safe and stable kingdom. Mages as a union were considered to be the greatest political force beside the king's table itself. Not even the Zentopia Church was as important.

The mages dedicated their lives to the study of the unknown and bizarre and the people trusted in their wisdom. Only a man that knew the obscure could make sure not to cause tumult within the fabric of magic. A king that didn't have the mages on his side couldn't possibly be a very good monarch, couldn't be trusted to make wise choices.

The church on the other hand had lost this role several hundred years ago. Their spiritual guidance was no longer a necessity for a man of royalty.

Through the works of a few visionaries and priests, the church had been transformed into a far more subtle organisation. According to them, priesthood meant not telling the people what to do or think, but to help them speak with the gods above and get their answers from the skies.

To build, bless, and maintain the halls in which the gods could connect to the common folk, to sing praise and soothe the temper of the divine, that was what a man of the gods should occupy himself with. Getting involved with politics merely risked that the corruption often following in its wake may creep into the sacred halls and sully them.

Despite this, Levy had also contacted the Zentopia Church, asking the Archbishop to send out a priest to the flowering capital. Currently, the grand Crocus Church stood empty. The people had started gathering in it once more, cleaning it of spider webs and dust, but to have organised religion move into its halls would bring new life to the fine building and soothe those that held strong zentopian believes.

While the church held no political power, its spirituality was still of great importance to those that held the gods near. To this day, even the king's coronation was still held in the religion's ancient tradition, praying to all the twelve gods as well as the god of the dead, the thirteenth celestial being.

While Michello had recited the prayer before setting the ceremonial crown upon their sovereign's head, Laxus had never officially been blessed by the church, a procedure that could only gain them favour. Whether there were gods or not, there were definitively those that believed in them and would respect the blond man more if he had the blessing bestowed upon himself and his wife.

And it could not be denied that there was something special about this tradition. Some sort of magic did reside in the hands of a priest, a favour of the celestial beings following his words. 

So far, the church had not responded to the chair's call and the fact that she wasn't even present could surely not help.

Mirajane looked over the documents piling up on the young scholar's desk. No one ever paid her much attention so her intentions weren't questioned when she wandered about the halls. The queen was just kind of there, of interest to the king and the maids, not the scholars or advisers, not even most of the guards, only tasked with protecting her and never receiving any orders from her.

She let her eyes sweep over the newest writing. It was another report, detailing how much a renovation of the barracks around Crocus would cost. It was far too much to even consider, that much was clear at once. She could see what Levy had planned and it was clever, but sadly not possible as things were. They didn't have the coin to renovate or rebuild anything of importance.

Yukino came to her side as she held the document in hand. “Your Highness should do it”, she encouraged and Mirajane smiled a little. It was good to know that her champion believed in her.

The slender swordswoman grew up protecting her home town from bandits and was thus a well adapted and quick thinking fighter. Once peace allowed her to, she left for the capital and applied to the caste guard.

Having guarded the back doors of Mercurius, she often met Mirajane when she strode out into the gardens to take a walk or read on one of the tranquil benches. When she escorted the queen through the rose bushes and boxwood, Mirajane had educated her about the statues and their history. The queen often spoke about the different books she read or what was going on with the kingdom at large. She paid attention, even if no one seemed to take notice.

Fascinated with the queen, Yukino made sure to always be there when the white haired royal walked outside and the two of them quickly became friends.

When Laxus suggested his wife should find a champion, as any other fine lady would, she didn't have to contemplate her choices. Even if Yukino wasn't strictly speaking trained as knight, she was the one offered the title as the queen's champion and more than happily accepted. It didn't meet any resistance. Laxus himself didn't have any traditionally knighted guard, either, but a swordsman, a rogue, and an archer.

The young champion's brown eyes were ever watchful when she protected her liege and friend. Having gotten to know the former waitress, she knew the white haired lady could not only read but understood the back and forth of politics as well as any adviser. She was certain that the queen could help out with the administrative tasks that overwhelmed her husband.

Yukino herself didn't understand everything that went on, but she could see how well Mirajane followed the happenings when listening to the meetings of The Table and the audiences the king held, the suggestions and requests as well as the king's responses to them. She knew exactly what was going on and what needed to be done, but she hesitated.

It was more than odd for a woman of the court to get involved with politics on her own. It was said to be unfitting for a lady of royalty, but attitudes changed and someone had to be the first.

Yukino kept reminding her liege of this and Mirajane knew she could help. She was up to date, had been at every meeting for the past month. Laxus didn't understand why, but he also didn't comment on her presence, respected that she did what she pleased. It was only when he met with the shadow master and the chair that his wife was excluded. Not even the other royal guards were allowed to be in the room when they spoke.

Whatever her husband had them do, it was imperative it stay a secret. She would lie if she claimed not to be curious, but she knew Laxus was no fool. He was good at reading and handling people and something he decided ought to be kept quiet surely really should.

Nodding to her champion, Mirajane agreed. “Yea, I think I am ready to stir things up. Where is Laxus?” “Your Highness is in the throne room. He has a few visitors to attend to”, the swordswoman answered dutifully. She always stayed strict and professional, even when alone with the queen never giving an incorrect title. While they were friends, she never forgot her position. Not that Mirajane would have minded it in the least.

  


Laxus was trying hard to focus. To hold audience was something he had grown accustomed to, but after sitting through hour long meetings with the high constable, the nobles of Crocus and the scholars that wouldn't shut up about a renovation of the great libraries, he was having a hard time sitting still and listening.

Trying to catch up with everything Levy had organised these past moths was hard work. She had set up meetings and contacted people he didn't even know existed. He ought to read up on a lot of them in order to truly follow, but these meetings at least allowed him a glance at the chair's work.

He didn't have to worry about any of this before now, but with the bluenette working the dungeons, he had to step in. It was his responsibility to begin with, holding the contact with the different cities and their neighbouring countries, the counting of troops and commoners, the collecting of information about problems all around. He had been the one to delegate the work to the chair, even if he hardly even knew what it entailed.

It was always like this between king and chair. The chair led the country, managed, organised and pulled at all the strings, and the king sat on a throne as face outward, a respectable noble with great pedigree. Not that Laxus was the perfect example of this as the grandson of a mere guard master and town lord, his only ties to the former royal family being a several generations weak link to the queen that had died so very long ago in child birth.

His queen was not a lady by birth either. She had been a simple waitress. It was more than rare for a commoner to join the crown family, but especially a queen from the commons was very unorthodox. A strong man that proved himself worthy to marry a princess wasn't unheard of. Reigning tradition gave a royal lady away as tournament price on her eighteenth birthday. But a king picking his wife among the commoners, that was truly remarkable.

Had she said no, he would have made a strategic choice instead of marrying for love, but he was glad that he had accepted him. It was a blessing to have Mirajane at his side, especially now that the roof seemed to cave in on him more for each day.

He noticed his wife coming into the throne room again. It felt good to see her sitting there, supporting him. Now that he was constantly swarmed and hardly even had the time to talk to her in the evenings, he was even happier to at least see her like this, to just have here there.

The messengers that had arrived this day spoke their minds and he gave his opinion, the scribe again noting everything down in his odd unreadable swirls. Michello was still in the archive, but had offered to give his counselling afterwards and write any letters about decisions delayed due to this inconvenience.

When a third man from Dahlia repeated what Laxus had already heard about the harbour city's plans for the northern headland, Mirajane got up and strode further into the hall.

Everyone but Yukino looked up in surprise.

She was a dashing sight in her fine gown, a slight gold crown decorating her hair in a matching manner to the king's own. That her heritage was simple was not in the least visible when she walked, an inherit elegance to her movements that not even all born nobles learned in their lifetime.

Holding her wide dress up ever so little as she walked up the stairs, she smiled at her husband where he sat on the throne, tired, but trying to hide it from the messenger before him. After eyeing the queen in slight confusion, said man continued his little speech.

Mirajane stopped right before the throne, turning to the messenger with her head held high.

Interrupting the man, she spoke instead. “Tell your lord that we have received his message, both times. If he sends yet another to represent him, we will turn him down without further contemplation. Patience is a noble man's virtue. The king will speak his mind when he decides to, not when the lord wishes it.”

“I... uhm, yes, of course, Your Highness”, the messenger responded startled. He bowed deeply and stiffly before scurrying out of the throne room with a few bewildered glances back at the royal woman.

“Mira?”, Laxus asked in slight amusement. The messenger had annoyed him as well, but he had always considered the white haired woman to be the calmer one of them. The last time he had seen her give orders like this had been back in the Fairy Tail castle, before he left for his quest. She might be a beautiful angel on the outside, but she had a devil's glare. When this woman was annoyed, she could stare down even the strongest and bravest of men.

Turning to her husband, Mirajane smiled warmly. “You should rest. I can take care of this for a while.” At that, he stood. “It's not your job to speak with messengers or anyone else that has requested audience for that matter.”

“No, my job is to sit in my chambers and knit until I have children to care for”, she responded sarcastically and he shook his head a little. “You're a queen. You can do something else.” Mirajane nodded a little. She motioned to the hall at large and responded, “Like this for example.”

Taking Laxus's hand in her own, she stepped closer and leaned in on him. “You look so tired. Let me help.” Laxus sighed. He really didn't want to let his wife bear the burdens that he should.

“I'm sorry to worry you. As soon as Lady Levy is back, everything will go back to normal”, he ensured her, but she wasn't going to let him get away that easily. “I know that there is some important secret you are keeping with her and Bickslow, but whatever it is, you need to rest now as much as any other day. I can handle this. I can help out, so let me.”

When Laxus was about to protest, she continued, “I am not taking no for an answer. I have listened to every meeting and audience for a while now. I know where we're at and where we need to go. If there is some other factor you think I might not know about, then tell me and I will make sure to keep it in mind as well.”

“You have your mind set, haven't you?”, the blonde asked and she nodded firmly.

He stroked a hand over her cheek before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips. “Fine then. I trust you, you know that. If you insist, I'll sleep for a little while.” “Good”, she stated and he huffed a laugh. “Thanks.”

There was no sense in denying that he was dead tired. Now that the pressure was lifted off his shoulders at least temporarily, a yawn crept up his throat and he clasped a hand over his mouth. “Get going”, Mirajane ordered teasingly and he nodded. Giving her another kiss, he made for their chambers, leaving the current work to her.

He had full confidence in the queen's ability to deal with the audiences. Mirajane was a smart and determined woman and she had charm enough to enthral an entire nation. If anything, she would get through these kinds of meetings even better than him, being a quicker thinker than him in most areas.

Mirajane took a seat on the throne and Yukino came to her side, standing where Freed Justine had been guarding over the king just now. The queen motioned the scribe over. “Show me your notes”, she ordered.

“They are not readable, Your Highness, but I can recite”, he excused, but she insisted.

Receiving the stack of paper, Mirajane read the transcript, seeing what her husband had discussed before she arrived. “Your Highness can read shorthand?”, the stenographer asked in surprise and she simply nodded a little.

She had herself acted scribe for Makarov Dreyar from time to time or made notes when listening in to discussions among bandits that didn't register her as a member of the Fairy Tail Guard. It was very handy to be able to walk around unnoticed and write unreadable signs. Bickslow was the one that had taught her, himself too odd to slip in among the common folk unnoticed. 

Once she was up to date, she handed the papers back and motioned the guards to show the next visitor in.

The day went by smoothly and she even found the time to speak with a few commoners that had been told there was no way they would be heard without a scheduled time.

Everyone that entered was initially surprised that the queen rather than the king sat in the throne to hear about their concerns, but none dared comment on it and merely stated their business.

Mirajane kept taking over for her husband. She even set up meetings outside the castle to speak to the people and met with the court members that Laxus still hadn't found the time to visit and get to know. It wasn't long before she was reconsigned and adored all around the capital.

News that the queen was getting personally involved with politics spread quickly thorough the entirety of Fiore and caused countless debates both among the nobility and the commoners. Some said she was doing the right thing while others thought she ought to focus other things, like preparing to raise the king's children.

Mirajane wouldn't let anyone talk her back into her former role. She was of far greater value helping her husband in his work than sitting around and rolling her thumbs. She saw nothing inherently honourable about keeping to the “women's duties”.

On farms and in villages and towns, the women often took on just as much of the workload as the men and it was long ago that women had been accepted into military and guarding positions. After the take over by a female lead army, one would think the attitudes against female nobility would have changed more drastically. Even the chair was a woman, a young one at that.

The important part was that Laxus accepted her determination and believed in her ability. Levy had expressed her support as well and Yukino was at her side every step of the way, leading a small detail of guards whenever the queen left the protective walls of Mercurius to work with the locals.

The way she connected to the people gave the The Crown new insights to what needed fixing. For example the sheer amount of orphans left after the years of chaos was first truly brought to light through her involvement.

Once Levy was available again, Mirajane planned to try and find a solution for these children together with the chair so they wouldn't end up in the cellars. She herself had been in their position and knew how hard it was to get by without turning to theft.

While most of the court either supported her or kept their peace, Michello was not as pleased about her involvement with the state affairs. He didn't care that she was a lady, but he cared about their legacy, and he had no problem speaking his mind.

When for once the entire table was present, he started again and Mirajane sighed audibly.

“I know you don't want to hear it, Your Highness, but that is the most important task you have. To bear a child is a queen's foremost responsibility to her kingdom. You accepted that role the day you took the king's hand”, he argued.

“Michello. That is quite enough”, Laxus said sternly, but the elder would not let himself be lectured by a younger man, even if he was a king. “You youngsters do not understand the importance of this. For twenty years, the people suffered because one man was too stubborn to marry again and have a child. It is imperative that Mirajane make her priorities clear.”

Laxus looked to the chair for help, but she avoided his eyes. While she didn't like it any more than them, she had to agree with the historian. It wasn't pretty, but as long as there was no child, there was no true stability. She admired the queen for her hard work, but she couldn't say that Michello was wrong.

Rose gave an awkward huff as well, demonstratively staring out the window. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence, but her gaze was directed toward the gardens where the grave of the king's unborn lay and that fact didn't pass the monarch by. He felt a stone in his stomach at the thought.

He could have been a father already. He couldn't really imagine Jessalyn giving herself to any man, nor would she have been his first choice for a wife even if she had still been alive. The child would have been a bastard, unfit to follow in his footsteps. He tried not to think of it too often, of what could or might have been. Important was what really did and was happening.

Mirajane took a deep breath before speaking up. “I will have a child as soon as I can and I will give up my work for that child if need be, but until that day, I will keep doing what I do. To let Laxus exert himself won't help us conceive any quicker”, she stated and the historian finally quieted.

Levy tried to repress the smile creeping to her face at the feisty response. “I believe our queen as made her priorities clear”, she stated and Michello gave a small huff before sitting back down.

Once the meeting was over, Mirajane walked back to the royal chambers with her champion. She wanted children, a bunch of them. There was no question about that. It was just so damned annoying that other people had to get involved with their private business like this. That her womb was spoken of as some sort of state property was demeaning to say the least.

She knew it was a little selfish, but she would have preferred it if Laxus hadn't become a king, if they could have stayed in Magnolia Town and lived there for the rest of their days, as guard and waitress.

They would have raised their kids together with their friends, with her siblings and his grandfather. When the children grew older, she would have taught them how to swim at the beaches of Sciliora and they would have taken hiking trips up to Mount Hakobe to see the large quarries and mines.

Instead, she would have to teach them mannerism and fine speech, force them to read history and languages. They would learn to ride and fight among the royal army and meet the fine lords and ladies all around the land. They would first swim in the ocean before travelling by boat.

It would all be less personal, less playful and relaxed, but the upside was that their children would have the best teachers in all of Fiore. Their future would be secure and they would lead the country on into prosperity. In that, Mirajane found hope.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to comment on the length of these chapters? Too long, still too short, or just fine?


	6. Darton, Archmage of Fiore

Levy stood before one of one of the dark tunnels that steeped down further below the city, squinting into the shadows. Even when the cleaning work drew to an end, she couldn't help but keep wondering.

What was beyond the dungeons?

Serena had said the tunnel system was far more extensive than these mapped out areas. So far, she hadn't even found the old archives and hidden escape ways that were rumoured below the city. Surely, they were located further down, away from this relatively well known area.

It wouldn't be hard to just pick up a torch and walk down one of the unknown corridors. Thanks to the odd magic that lingered, she didn't have to worry about loosing her way among the confusing hallways.

There was so much they didn't know about this place. How deep was it? How wide? How many meters of tunnel was there in total? Where were all the other exits? What was down there? Who had built this place and why? How and when? What was the origin of the sinister magic that lingered here? Where did the heat come from? Was there molten stone in the depths of this labyrinth? Could a human construct really reach that far down? It itched in her to go looking for answers.

The issue was, she had to help out here and once that was done, she had a lot of work to get back to. Even with Mirajane's help, there was a lot that only Levy could do. Her presence was called for and the scholars that had arrived wanted to finally meet her in person.

The economy crisis was far from solved and there were numerous requests and suggestions that Laxus and Mirajane hadn't been able to decide on, even with Michello's help. While the man had a lot of knowledge about prior events and could make remarkably accurate predictions about the future, he did not know much about costs, management or construction not to speak of agriculture. That was still Levy's most important function in the kingdom, to serve the king as main advisor and right hand, not to go adventuring for the thrill of it.

“Chair?”

The two shadow guards that Bickslow had detailed as her personal protection were obviously uneasy this close to the edge of the dungeons. As far as they were concerned, going beyond the parameter wasn't a very exciting thought at all. Sighing, she lead them back to the nearest exit.

On the eastern side of the city, they emerged from the underground labyrinth and had to shield their eyes against the glaring sun.

The guards stationed on either side of the heavy wood doors had no idea what work was being done within, strictly forbidden to enter on their own. Their only task was to make sure that only those authorised by the Shadow Master came past these doors.

Blinking a few times, Levy squinted until her eyes adjusted to the light.

This exit was in the yard of the main barrack of Crocus, the place where the guard master resided. It was a large complex. Three houses formed living quarters for the guards. An extra building was holding solely cellars and by the gates there was a separate stable with its own full time groom.

The plan was to build a new court just across the street. They would need more than one in the end, and here, the prisoners needed minimal transport between cellar, court, and dungeons.

Once they had the coin to finance it, the jailers would gain a new housing complex nearby as well. Having a detail here in the Crocus Guard's main barrack would make the handling of prisoners a lot easier. The head jailer would still live near Mercurius where the Shadow Guard had their headquarters. The man was strictly speaking a commander of the young troop.

Levy was interrupted in her thoughts as a Mercurius guard came up to her. He bowed and reported, “Lady Levy, you are requested at the castle. Darton is awaiting you.” “He came to the capital?”, the scholar asked in surprise and the man nodded. “Two hours ago, My Lady.”

Levy got her horse at once and mounted up. Turning Nyx toward the city centre, she rode off and her guards hurried after. She knew she was being annoying, but they simply had to keep up. It was their job and she had hers. Gajeel never complained. He was more attentive, following the happenings around them and always ready to jump whenever she did.

Had he been a regular guard, she would have insisted he watch her from the early morning hours instead of taking over after midday as he mostly did. He didn't like leaving her side either, but neither one of them was ready to give up on the little alone time they had.

Reaching Mercurius, the Chair handed her steed to the grooms and walked inside. In the library, she found the man of the hour.

He was older than anyone she ever had, or probably ever would, meet. Over a hundred years of wisdom sat before her. The man's magic was something extraordinary, defying time itself. Some said he had lived through two centuries in the 100 years he has lived. Somehow, he could be in two places at the same time, because he wasn't actually there at the same _time_. She didn't think anyone but Darton himself could hope to truly understand it.

A blue cloth hid his bald head, matched by a simplistic tunic. Over it, he wore his iconic brown robe. It looked like it had been been tailored just recently, but its style was something out of a history book, the cloth heavily woven and a skilful embroidery of Ivy plants running along the edges. An intricate herdera flower had been carved out of bone and used as clasp. Rumour said the pin holding it in place was a dragon's claw, but the mage had never confirmed nor denied it.

The city of Hedera lay in ruins these days and the former noble house's symbol was obsolete. Darton himself hadn't been part of the royalty, but had served at the guard castle for thirty years before leaving the city to study magic. Yet, he was the only one that still wore the old emblem.

On his fingers sat several signet rings. One from the former city lord of Hedera, one from The Scholarship of The Crown, one from the Magic Library of Fiore, and one from the Grand Library of Seven. These were no ordinary rings. All but that of the former city held a magic that made them unique and impossible to recreate. They gave the mage in their possession full access to all associated chambers and granted a certain amount of power over them.

The elder's face was relaxed and not half as wrinkly as it ought to be at his age. An old scar was going over his left chin and the side of his nose. His small calculating eyes were focused on a thick tome that lay open on his knee.

By his side stood a tall figure, a knight dressed in finest armour. A helmet with large white plume in hand, he held his head high. A sword hung from his belt, the beautiful scabbard hinting that it had to be of fine craftsmanship. He looked to be around fifty years of age, his dark hair a spiky mess on his head. His sideburns ran all the way down to a rather pointy beard. The man's slim face and bushy eyebrows in combination with his strong build gave him a rather strict appearance.

When Levy walked further inside, the old mage looked up from his book and smiled. He got up, setting the tome aside with a care that only true friends of literature had. “Lady Freeheart, it is an honour”, he spoke with surprising vocal strength.

The bluenette bowed her head ever so little. “The honour is all mine, Mage Darton. I am happy you accepted my invitation.” She would have expected him to answer the letter she sent rather than turning up in person, but here he was, the greatest mage in all of Fiore.

“Of course. I grieved The Scholarship and am delighted to help you rebuild it”, the elder stated. He had worked hand in hand with the former archmage and it was long said that he had outdone even the former grand wizard.

The Archmage had died of old age since the fall of The Crown and its scholarship, leaving Darton as the unmistakably best mage in the entire country, perhaps even the neighbouring ones. After all, the people of Fiore were still very close to the origins of magic.

The elder looked around the castle library demonstratively. “I see the libraries were not touched even after all that happened. That calms my old heart. I shall show you where we hid the old scrolls and fine writings.”

It came as no surprise to Levy that there were more books, texts that had been brought to safety before the castle was abandoned. Libraries were a place of interest to few, but even a simple bandit could see that books with golden décor or scrolls encased in finest wooden rolls were valuable.

In contrast to gold and jewellery, books brought most value to the world when kept in the public domain. The scholars wouldn't have allowed for a single one to be ruined. The books that were left in the open were all of little interest to anyone that didn't intent to read them. The other large libraries around the capital were no different, all filled with mere paper and leather.

Why anyone bothered decorating book covers and scroll casings, Levy would never understand. It served no other purpose than to make the texts easier targets for thieves and complicate their use with the additional weight of the expensive materials. Any fragile details had to be tended and handled with care. It was simply impractical.

“They are in the underground archive, aren't they?”, the bluenette asked and Darton nodded, “Indeed. You are as clever as your reputation says. Few know about the archives.”

“Enough do”, Levy stated. Even Makarov Dreyar had mentioned them in his letter to Jessalyn when he asked for the Freehearts' aid. The secret of the labyrinth was not about its existence or the fact that there were other chambers hidden within, but rather how to find the places rumoured along the hallways.

“You haven't found it yet, have you?”, the mage wondered and she shook her head. She was confident that she could have if she had had the time to go exploring. The way to the archive was surely marked in some way, perhaps with scholar runes, but there simply hadn't been the time.

“I would like for you to attend The Table's meeting tomorrow morning. I aim to make you our new Archmage”, Levy told him and the elder gave a small smirk. He had expected as much. Who else could possibly fit the position better than him? There was no reason to hesitate coming to Crocus. He was here to stay. “I am honoured, Chair.”

“Would you mind joining me? I am looking through the book of kings. Perhaps you have some additional insight to share about or new sovereign?”, Darton requested, but Levy shook her head. “I am sorry, but I have work to do. You can speak to Laxus yourself to form an opinion on him.” Not that she wouldn't have loved to sit and talk with this man, try to gain some insight from him about her own magic, but all that had to wait, as so much did.

The grand wizard nodded. “I see. Do tell me this, though. Do you think he is a good king?” Levy straightened her back. It was obvious he didn't just ask out of curiosity. Darton held a great deal of power with his magical ability.

He was able to speak for the mages at large without consulting a single one of them and strong enough to defeat entire platoons on his own with spells of destruction. The elder had never made use of them, but he had studied them, experimented on them and documented his astounding successes, splitting earth and water, taming both fire and wind.

Whatever advantage his seemingly endless life gave him in the arena of magic, it had made itself known loud and clear.

“I believe that Laxus Dreyar is the greatest king we could have possibly hoped for. He is fair dealing, strong and open minded. He listens to those that know their trait and tries his best to balance his responsibilities. He puts this country before all else”, she stated.

“Well, not all”, Darton shrugged. He smiled a little at the far younger scholar. “Thank you for your insight.” With that, he turned around and stalked back to his seat, picking the thick tome back up.

Levy took a deep breath. She hoped that had been convincing enough. She hadn't lied abut anything, but she was also aware that their king wasn't perfect. He was human and thus flawed, as any of them.

She walked back to her chambers to check on the paperwork that had stacked up before she had to go to the meeting. Mirajane had added a few notes in short hand here and there, a very helpful guidance when skimming over the texts.

In the end, all of it could still be summarised to the fact that they couldn't afford any of the things they had to pay for the coming year. It was time to start thinking about income taxes and loans. Not even that could cloud her cheery mood right now. Darton was actually here.

When Gajeel appeared in her sitting room, the two shadow guards left and she smiled up at her champion.

“You seem to be in a good mood today”, the knight commented and she nodded. “Darton just agreed to join us. He is here in Crocus, in the royal library.” “Who?”, he frowned, taking a seat beside her at the desk. He slung his arms around her and she told him about the meeting with the grand mage.

“What do you think he meant by that, 'not all'?”, Gajeel wondered. “Probably his wife”, the scholar answered and he made a face. It wasn't an awfully kind statement to make, but again, it was true. She was smart and by far better educated than anyone had imagined when she married the king, but his choice hadn't been based on that. It had been love and Levy did not blame him for a second. She would love to be able to do the same, but her own interest was by far more problematic.

Sighing, she gathered her notes and picked a few of the reports they might need from the stack before her. Usually, no one was interested in hearing the details, but she still carried them with her every time, just in case. No one was going to catch her unprepared, especially not now that Darton himself was going to join The Table.

She freshened up a little and then headed for the meeting.

In the hall, Darton was already introducing himself to the king. Laxus seemed to realise how important the man standing before him was, even giving a slight bow of his head to show his respect for the elder. That gesture was bound to serve him well with gaining the wise man's trust and approval.

Once Rose strode into the hall, she set her helmet down on the table with a sigh and then looked up. A bright smile spread over her lips as she spotted the tall knight at Darton's side. “Arcadios! What as it been, 25 years?”

The man grinned back at the high constable. “Rose, you little thief!” He stepped around the table and pulled her into a crushing hug, only stopped by the metal of their armours. He clapped her on the shoulder plates with his gauntlets loudly, teasing, “You're almost a woman now.”

“You two are familiar?”, Michello asked in mild surprise and the redhead put an arm over the tall knight's shoulders. “Arcadios was once a general of the royal army. He was in Hargeon once, thinking that Jess was behind a series of raids on Crocus Rove.”

When the gathered eyes found the man instead, he finished the story for her. “It wasn't her, though. I was most surprised when a bandit leader helped me find and capture another bandit.” Rose chuckled at that. “That was Jess.”

Arcadios turned to her, suddenly serious again. “I heard about the slaughter. I'm sorry for you loss, Rose. It was too early for her to die, especially in such a barbaric way.” The redhead nodded. “Thank you.”

Clearing her throat, Levy regained their attention. “Now that everyone is gathered...”

She introduced the grand mage to the entire round. The king and queen happily greeted Darton welcome as the new archmage of Fiore, effectively giving him a seat at The Table and making him the official representative for the magicians of the entire country. Not that he would have needed their approval to act as spokesperson for the magical community.

“The topic of the day is not as cheery, I'm afraid”, the bluenette continued with their agenda. “The budget”, Mirajane more stated that asked and Levy nodded.

A sigh went around the room. It was indeed not a particularly jolly subject.

“We cannot wait with the renovation of the barracks for much longer. It will take a year to get through all of them. Most are not fit for winter, not to speak of another full year of service. Roofs leak and rats have made their homes in the walls and floor. Mushrooms grow in some of the cellars and the lighting is sparse even in the main halls.

This state is hardly good for morale even if the guards aren't complaining as of yet. Many soldiers have to live in their own homes, find and maintain a house beside their occupation. There is no way for them to focus fully on their training as it is. We need proper defences.”

Levy glanced down at the report about the cost of such an initiative. “I don't think I have to mention that we cannot afford it.”

“But we will gain money over time, won't we?”, Mirajane asked hopefully. At that, the scholar made a vague gesture.

“The general idea is to take just a little more in taxes than the maintenance costs so the rest can be saved for bigger projects or unforeseen costs. The problem is, we don't have any money for any projects and there are a ton of things that badly need to be fixed. Maintenance is not enough right now.

Beside the barracks, there are the hospitals They are badly understaffed, especially now that we have many permanently injured veterans whom we need to take care of. I know no promises have been made to them, but we need to show them the kings gratitude.

And our queen wanted to help the homeless kids, to erect a form of home for them, as The Hargeon Rest was for me when I was little. There are a ton more issues to address, but these are a few of the most pressing ones.”

“Aright. What do we have to do?”, Laxus asked and she cleared her throat. “We might have to either take high taxes in general or take a lot of money from the nobles.”

“Both of these options are sure to piss people off. The choice is just between the commoners and the influential people with potentially own armies”, Darton clarified and she nodded lightly. “That exactly.”

“So whatever we do, we have to screw someone over?”, Rose asked and the archmage gave a forced smirk. “Basically, yes. Unless we can convince someone to lend us money.” Mirajane gave a hopeful exhale. “Like whom?”, she inquired. Being in debt was troublesome, but it sounded a lot better than causing aversions among their own people at least.

“A classic way to solve this issue is to marry into a rich family, but we don't really have any crown family member that isn't taken”, Michello interposed. The queen ignored the inherit hint directed at her. She wasn't in the mood to have this argument again today.

“What do we do then?”, Rose demanded. She didn't like hearing about everything that didn't work. It was annoying as hell. She needed less talking and more doing at this table.

“I honestly have no idea. I have studied the subject for weeks, but for this problem there are no simple solutions. Marriage would have been the go to answer”, Levy shrugged.

“There is gold you could sell. The castle is decorated in it and there are the crowns. They are worth a fortune”, Darton suggested and Michello gave him a scandalised look. “And they are not for sale”, Laxus stated firmly, much to the historian's relief.

“I have to agree with the king. We should only think about something like that if worst comes to worst. Those are more worth than their weight in gold and the craftsmanship that went into making them”, Levy spoke out against the notion.

“Indeed. I did not risk my life keeping them these past twenty years to have the new king sell them off like common goods”, Michello added. Rose raised an eyebrow at that. “Why is it that important? It's just jewellery.”

The historian puffed his chest out in aggravation at her ignorance. “The crowns are not just symbols of royalty, but of hope”, he lectured. “Fiore was in chaos before there was a king. Civil wars raged and banditry was running wild all over the lands before Poll. E. Fiore's conquest. When the last king of that line died, the country was in chaos again, for two decades. To sell the greatest symbol of peace this country has is unthinkable!”

“I get it. I am hardly an expert when it comes to history, but I can see how this would harm the soul of these lands”, the high constable almost apologised at the elder's uncharacteristic infuriation.

Darton didn't seem to be as impressed with the cultural heritage or sentimental value of the gold. “Which leaves the décor of the castle”, he simply continued his line of thought.

“Which would also send a signal to the people that they need to be worried”, Levy declined. Turning to the chair, the archmage suggested calmly, “Maybe they really need to be.”

“If we really cannot go on, we'll tear off the décor, but until then, we scape by or find another solution. I'll think about the tax rates”, Laxus said to end their discussion before it erupted into something nasty.

He did not want to diminish the beauty of the castle if it could be avoided. It would set a terrible mark for the beginning of his reign to tear at a landmark like Mercurius. If worst came to worst however, he would put his people before his reputation.

“Don't make an enemy of the nobles”, Darton warned and Rose gave a scoff. Of course a man that grew up in a castle would hold that opinion. “Because screwing the general public over is so much better”, she countered irritably.

“I said, I will think about it. We're done for now”, Laxus stated firmly, making it clear he would not hear another word, and both held their silence.

Rose turned to the newly arrived knight instead. “Arcadios, what would you say to retaking your place in the army?” She could use another good general and she knew this man had vigour and leadership qualities for two.

The knight bowed lightly and declined, “Thank you for the offer, Your Grace, but I will stick to protecting Darton and The Scholarship. The Archmage helped me through my toughest times and I will repay that debt as his champion.”

Slightly disappointed, she nodded, “I see you are as honour bound as ever. I hope you will consider my offer again after Darton.” “Lets hope that is a long time in the future”, the man responded and she shot the archmage a look. “We all do.”

The man was wise and clever and had somehow managed to retain a healthy brain even into his old age. She was convinced he would grow leathery before he started forgetting anything.

“Say, what happened to your eyebrow?”

She instinctively held a hand over the scar. “It's nothing”, she mumbled and the knight chuckled a little. “It sure looks like something.”

Luckily, the high constable was saved by the bell. Darton called his champion to his side. “Arcadios, we're going.”

“You're headed out?”, The redhead changed the subject and he nodded. “To the labyrinth, I presume.”

“Mind if I tag along?”, she wondered. She had never been down there before. It intrigued her, especially after all the secrecy around the dungeons and the Shadow Guard. Not knowing the answer, the knight looked over to his liege. The Archmage looked to the chair in turn, aware that he was new in the group and ignorant to who knew what and why in this current formation of royalty.

“Sorry, Rose, but this is scholarship business”, Levy waved it off. They wouldn't pass by any cells that hadn't already been cleared, but it was better if only few knew where the archive was located. The fewer mouths could speak about it, the smaller was the risk for unwanted ears to hear about it.

The redhead sighed. “More secrecy, eh? Fine we'll talk later.” She clapped Arcadios on the back before taking her leave.

  


 


	7. In The Depths of the Capital

For the first time since the fall of The Crown, someone would wander beyond the dungeons of Crocus.

Levy was in high spirits. Curiosity was boiling in her chest as they walked down the spiral staircase again. Only her, Darton, and their champions were going in this time around. Walking past the guards that stood at the doors, the two knights held their torches up high to illuminate the path.

Within the dungeons, there were torch holders scattered along the hallways. While the torches weren't always replaced in time, most of the tunnels had at least some lighting now. The jailer's always carried spares with them and made sure to set new ones into the metal fastenings when they came by. Near Mercurius, however, there weren't many cells and thus the tunnels remained pitch black.

The closest path leading below the underground prison wasn't far from the castle. It was however surprisingly hard to locate even with the ability to sense magic. It sat hidden behind a few very odd twists and turns to the west.

Darton took the lead with sure steps and a few minutes later, they stood before the descending hallway. The cut stones that had been meticulously placed along the walls and floors of the upper two levels abruptly stopped here. Before them lay only tightly packed dirt. There were no cell doors and no torch holders anywhere in sight, just an empty tunnel dug into the earth.

Of course, their little expedition didn't go unnoticed by the Shadow Master, who always had his eyes on the place.

“Going somewhere interesting?”, Bickslow cooed and the four of them turned around in surprise. Arcadios lifted his torch a little higher to illuminate the odd figure that stood leaning against the wall only a few meters from them.

“My Lady, is this man someone we can trust?”, Darton wondered and Levy repressed an amused huff. She wasn't surprised he asked. Bickslow did look rather peculiar, especially in this lighting, and anyone they meet down here had to be a strange fellow indeed.

“Yes. This would be the master of the Shadow Guard, the rogue Bickslow”, she introduced.

Turning to the masked man, she introduced her fellow mage in turn, “This is the new Archmage of Fiore, the elder Darton.”

“I know”, the rogue nodded. “Freed told me about the meeting. I couldn't attend myself, but when I heard it, I knew you lot would be coming down here sooner or later. You're going to search for the archive, right?”

The archmage sighed at that. “It seems you were right, My Lady. Its existence seems to be no secret at all these days.” “But it's location”, the Shadow Master mused with a grin of interest. “The archive is only for the scholars”, Darton declared at once, but the rogue wouldn't let himself be dismissed that easily.

“Wouldn't you consider me one? I am well read and know more about this city than any other. I know its ins and outs, its secrets and oddities. I know the exact movement of people that others have not even heard of. What other is a scholar, if not a man that seeks knowledge?”

Even Levy felt slightly creeped out by this declaration. 'People that others have not even heard of', what did he mean by that? Where these 'people' on their side or where they foes? The rogue had mentioned he would bring in other 'acquaintances' of his, but as far as she knew, no one fitting that description had joined the Shadow Guard.

“Besides”, the rogue continued. “It's not like you could keep a secret from me, no matter how hard you try.”

Gajeel snorted a laugh at that. He found the odd man's attitude very amusing. Not many would dare speak this way to members of The Table.

“Fine”, Levy sighed. Whatever else the man had going on, he was right about this. She also doubted that he would do anything without informing at least Laxus.

Starting down the earthy passage, their steps were dulled against the unpaved ground. The rogue didn't bother walking within the limited light of their torches. He was perfectly comfortable with stepping over rocks and navigating around uneven dips in the dark. Intersection after intersection, they headed right, walking in a spiral that ever so subtly lead them further and further down below the earth.

Hadn't Gajeel known that the two mages could navigate down here, he would have insisted they had to have walked in circles several times over. It again became clear why loosing your mind in this labyrinth was an easy task. The unease creeping down his spine certainly did its part.

After a while, he saw that the torch he was holding neared the end of its life. Taking a deep breath, he wondered just how much further they had to walk. If this kept on, they wouldn't have any light to find their way back. Being trapped down here under who knows how many feet of dirt was not the way he had imagined himself to go.

“Levy”, he finally caught the scholar's attention and she turned her head to him. Maybe it was just the light in this place, but her face looked pale, too pale. “Are you aright?”, he asked worriedly.

The bluenette blinked at her champion. His pupils were dilated despite the harsh light source near his face. She frowned up at him. “Yea, I'm okay. You?”

The man motioned to his torch. “This might not hold for much longer”, he stated and her eyebrows furrowed even more. She inspected the burning wood and found absolutely no sign of what he was talking about. The flames had barely licked off the surface of the torch head.

“I think the aura is getting to him. It does seem to get stronger the further down you go. The jailers that patrol the second level are always a little more these than the rest”, Bickslow commented. He placed a hand on the knight's forehead. “Cold. Definitively freaked out. Hallucinating. Yea, he's gotta be affected. I've seen this on a few of the younger shadow guards”, he concluded.

“Then we'd better hurry”, Darton stated. Taking a hold of her champion's hand, Levy led him along in a quicker pace than before.

Hallways blurred past the knight as he was being led further down, into the unknown darkness of this earthy grave. He wanted to turn around, to try and get out before it was too late, but Levy was determined and walking forward, so he followed.

No matter if she led him all the way to hell, he wouldn't let go of her small soft hand. Gripping it tighter, he accepted that fate. Whatever may come, he would protect her. He had sworn to it and he still meant it.

Levy felt the strong man's hand tightening around hers and looked back in worry. An unhealthy red was creeping into his sclera, his eyes looking almost infected. “Just a little further. Don't worry, I'm here”, she encouraged, but he didn't seem to even hear her words. His visual focus was lost several meters in front of them.

“Darton, how much further?”, she asked in worry. The archmage stopped abruptly and she halted as well, looking around them in confusion. At first glance, nothing was different here than anywhere else in this labyrinth, but Darton glared at the wall knowingly. It was as though he believed it was hiding something from him.

Holding an arm out, he ordered sternly, “Show yourself!” Levy could feel the pressure of his spell ripple along the tunnel and the ends of her hair stood up. In a sudden flash, the walls around them erupted in blue markings.

Scholar runes were scribbled all around the intersection. Glancing over them, Levy quickly realised they posed a test, a puzzle. The words were scrambled, encoded with another string of ancient runes, something from before the existence of Fiore itself.

“Please tell me you know the solution”, she sighed and the elder shook his head. “It's always different. That's part of the trick”, he mumbled, looking over the writings. His eyes followed the lines and columns. Having a general idea where to start, he pointed a finger at the markings and dragged them around to try and make sense of the scrambled writing.

Now that the sound of their steps had quieted, Levy could hear how heavily Gajeel really was breathing. She had to do something. Her mind was spinning. Glancing at the puzzle again, she determined it would take too long to solve. She bit her lip in concentration, looking out into the dark as not to be disturbed in her thoughts.

“Is the archive at least warded?”, Bickslow wondered and Arcadios nodded. “Yes, which is why we should get the Chair's champion there as soon as possible.”

Levy snapped her fingers, pointing to the two men. “That's it! Why didn't I think of it at once?”

She stepped around Gajeel and ran her hand under his wild mane, so her palm touched his neck. Closing her eyes, she calmed her own breathing. For this to work, she would have to be calm, perfectly calm. That was easier said than done down here, but before long the memory of the dark steel knight's warm embrace facilitated her relaxation and a small smile spread over her lips.

With a steady voice, she spoke, “No passage shalt be granted the dark one's curse.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the knight hissed in pain. He pushed her away, stumbling to the floor in a loud crash of armour. “What did you do?!”, Darton demanded loudly as he was interrupted in his thoughts, but the bluenette didn't manage to give an answer. Her eyes were wide as she watched the man she loved wring on the ground in pain, clawing on his own neck.

Tears ran down her cheek. This was now that she had intended at all!

Bickslow rushed to the knight's side. He pried the man's hands away to get a look at what was causing his distress.

On his neck, markings were burning into his flesh, eating away at him as only acid would. Quickly drawing his own hand away as not to be affected, the rogue looked back at Levy in shock. “What did you do?”, he echoed the archmage's question.

“I just wanted to protect him”, the young woman managed in a broken voice. Her eyes were wide in horror at what she had done.

She looked down at her hands. Never had her magic misfired like this, disobeyed her in such a way. Her spell of protection had instead caused harm. She was shaking when the rogue took her arms, demanding, “Undo it.”

“I don't know how”, she sobbed. She wanted to. She did. But she had no idea how to.

Looking to Darton for help, she saw that the elder had turned back to the puzzle on the walls. He seemed more focused on solving it now than before. “Archmage?”, she managed between her tears. Despite her obvious distress, the elder did not look away from the runes as he answered, “He'll live. You branded him. It will stop in just a moment.”

“Branded?”, Levy wondered in confusion. “That's right. You inscribed him with runes, creating a magical brand. Your spell worked. Or is that not what you intended to do?”, Darton asked back harshly. He clearly would have know not to do what she just did.

“I...” It had been what she intended, but she hadn't thought it would turn out like this. Swallowing back her tears, she looked back down at her hands in shame. She hadn't even stopped to think! She had no idea what that kind of magic would do to a live human being. What if she had killed him with it? Gods, she was so stupid!

Falling to her knees, she cried aloud, and in the depths of her mind, a dark cloud formed. The curse slipped into her soul, clenching its icy fingers around her very being.

She didn't even notice how Darton took his cloak off and instructed the Shadow Master to envelop her in it. She didn't notice how Gajeel finally sat back up with a groan, how he came to her side and held her tight. Nothing made its way past the wall of dark that had formed when she let the curse take hold in her moment of despair.

  


When Levy woke, the first thing she noticed was Gajeel's embrace. He was safe and close to her, calming. His breaths were hot against her forehead, a strong contrast to cold stone beneath her.

It took a moment before she remembered what had occurred, but once she did, she bolted upright.

“Easy Shrimp”, the man's dark voice mocked lovingly and she turned to him with tears again streaming from her eyes. She slung her arms around him. “I'm sorry. I didn't think. I'm so sorry Gajeel.”

“Hey now, I'm aright. A little burning isn't gonna get the best of me”, the knight ensured her, stroking a hand over her back. “I've been through worse”, he jested cheerfully, but she didn't seem to want to calm down yet.

He simply held her tight, stoking over her shoulder blades and waiting until she could catch herself again.

When she finally did, he stroked her bangs out of her face. Running his thumbs over her cheeks, he removed her tears and finally, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “It's okay. I'm fine. Your spell worked. That curse can't get at me any more.”

Levy frowned up at the knight. “What?”

“He is now warded against the curse. Any food he digests wouldn't have to worry about getting frightened”, Bickslow joked and she huffed a laugh at the ridiculous thought, but it didn't take long before her smile dropped from her face again. The echo of her champion's voice was still ringing in her head.“I hurt you”, she mumbled and Gajeel gave a rumbling laughter. His chest shook against her and she blinked up at him bewildered.

Grinning widely, the knight declared, “I sure have the coolest tattoo of anyone at the castle now.” He held his hair aside and she leaned over his shoulder to have a look. The marking really did look like a tattoo, like black ink that had been placed under his skin. Perhaps it actually was.

She felt over the runes and they tingled in response to their creator. It was her handwriting, no doubt.

She balled her hand to a fist and took a deep breath. If he was aright with it, she ought to be as well. And it had worked. Her magic hadn’t disobeyed her. She ought to have thought before acting, but for this time, it was aright. She wouldn't make the same mistake again.

When Levy picked herself up off the ground, she realised she was draped in Darton's cloak and quickly took it off. She turned around and the archmage smiled warmly. “It is not a good idea to despair in the presence of such dark curses.”

“I'm sorry”, she apologised, bowing deeply and handing the magical cloth back. She hadn't even noticed it before, the sensation very subtle, but having the brown clothing article over her own shoulders, it became obvious that magic had been woven into its fabric from the very first thread. It was a different kind than the one lingering in the labyrinth, kind and warm. It was warding.

Looking around, she saw rows and rows of books. Her eyes went wide at the selection. Magic was radiating off at least a third of the thick tomes and each one had its own intricate décor. In the other end of the small room, scroll cases were stacked up all the way to the ceiling.

Walking around the small chamber, she noticed the stones it had been laid out with were still perfectly smooth, like age would never affect them. “This is your doing, is it not?”, she wondered aloud and Darton nodded. “Yes, many years ago I warded this room not only against the dark one's curse, but also against the passing of time.”

“That is why we do not want to bring any magical books back with us. They are persevered down here. What we do want to bring along are these”, he continued, setting his hand down on a big stack he had selected while she had been out. “They are journals, theoretical breakdowns of magic practices, and notes that have not yet been written into proper books.”

Levy nodded a little. She would have to come down here to study the magical artefacts right here, in this small room.

“What was the solution to the puzzle?”, she wondered and the archmage smiled. He spoke in an odd tongue before clarifying, “It was a northern rune pattern. I don't understand what it means either, but it was right.”

“Entrance”, Levy said and he raised an eyebrow. “It means entrance”, she clarified. Frowning for a moment, she tried to explain, “I… am not sure why I know that, but I do.”

“Well, you are entwined with language like few others”, the archmage shrugged. “It wouldn't surprise me if you could both read and write any given language, modern or ancient. Perhaps, you could even call upon the divine.”

Levy's jaw dropped for a moment. Did the elder really think that highly of her? “Me?”, she gaped and he nodded. “You yourself set the limits of your expertise. I doubt you would want to become like me, only having magic as your friend in life, but you could certainly achieve a lot if you focus.”

The chair thought for a moment before shaking her head. “I have more important things to do”, she determined. At that, Darton laughed. “I thought you would say that. You have taken a great responsibility upon yourself and that at a very young age. I think that's honourable, but would never have done the same.”

He picked an especially fine looking book from the stack and smiled, “Lets go back. If you ever change your mind and decide to take up magic as your main subject of study, I will be at your disposal, Chair.”

Handing the two torches to Bickslow and Levy instead, the knights carried half of the writings each as they walked back out the door.

As soon as it fell into lock behind them, dirt crept back over its frame, soon covering the entire entrance to hide it from the world. A shimmer of blue ran along the wall as the puzzle reset into a new formation and then slowly faded from view.

In that brief moment, Levy already knew what the correct way to gain entrance was this time around. She didn't even have to solve the riddle. Now that she met the writing with a calm mind, it simply told her the answer.

“Head left until entering.”

Keeping silent about this, she walked with the four men back upward.

After what they had just encountered, it didn't greatly surprise her that the way back was another than the way down. They circled counter clockwise this time.

Gajeel was calm now. She didn't like to think of the reason for it, but at least he wasn't affected any more, walking along with as sure steps as ever. Her eyes were focused on the neck of the man she had branded and guilt nagged at her. Shaking her head, she fought the emotion. She wouldn't succumb to the curse a second time. Allowing herself to wallow in self pity would only get her trapped again.

“Oy! What the hell is that?”, Bickslow caught their attention and the entire group halted. The rogue was standing a little behind them, looking into another arm of the labyrinth curiously.

Walking back, they glanced along the tunnel to spot something gleaming in the dark. Levy walked further in, slowly inching toward the small green shimmer. When the ring of light from her torch reached it, the glow disappeared.

The rogue walked up to the spot where it had vanished and crouched down. He felt around the ground, running his fingers along the earth. After a few moments, he found a change in consistency and handed his torch to the young woman to free his hands. He took his dagger and wedged it into the dirt to pry whatever it was out.

A stone came free and he inspected it curiously. Standing back up, he edged out of the light and the stone in his hand shone up again, emitting a green light that made it easy to see in the tunnels. It gave illumination, but wasn't blinding the one carrying it like a torch did. “Cool”, the Shadow Master mused.

“It must be a form of crystal that catches and stores light”, Levy reasoned. “I have heard about such a thing, but how would it catch light down here?”, Darton wondered aloud.

Bickslow looked around for a light source and gaped into the distance.

The rest of the group walked over to him again and looked past the next crook in the tunnel only to mimic his facial expression.

Not far from them, a deep pit opened itself. It was a massive round hole that cut off any tunnels leading its way, like it had been cut out of the earth after the construction of the labyrinth was already complete. Here and there along the edges, the glowing crystals sat in the dirt, allowing the mages to approximate the distance.

The round orifice had to be at least 50 meters in diameter. 100 meters above them the ceiling closed into a dome shape, the crystals shining it up in great numbers. Below them, the lights became sparser and sparser until they stopped entirely, never indicating any end.

Walking closer to the edge of the pit, Levy felt a draft of warm air emitting form the depths. Whatever was down there was the cause for the constant heat here.

She held a torch out over the edge and let go, dropping it down the hole.

The flame fell further and further, shortly illuminating the walls and numerous hallways and openings along its way, but no ground made itself known. Far below them, the fire was extinguished in the breeze of the fall and Levy turned back to the group wide eyed. “That. Is deep.”

All five of them looked down into the darkness in awe.

It was several seconds later that the echo of a bump came from the hole, followed by a most terrifying sound. A deep growl rang through the halls and the earth under their feet vibrated with it. Levy took a step back in shock. “What was that?!”

“Sounded like a monster”, Bickslow smirked excitedly. Gajeel didn't like his manic expression in the least. “Do you reckon something is alive down there?”, he wondered with a far more disconcerted tone of voice.

“I suppose it is possible”, Darton mumbled. He looked down the huge hole as he searched the vast libraries of his knowledge. With everything he had experienced and read in his lifetime, there ought to be some clue, somewhere down in the archives of his mind.

“What if that's the 'dark one'?”, Bickslow asked, still just as animated by the mystery before them. “It would explain the magic”, Darton said thoughtfully.

“I think we should go”, Gajeel grumbled in discomfort and the rogue chuckled. “What? Are the runes on your neck not enough after all?”, he teased and the knight growled at him darkly. “What the hell are you trying to say, huh?” “Nothing at all”, the Shadow Master grinned innocently and the dark red eyes slimmed.

“Gajeel is right. Let's go”, Levy agreed and they made a second try to ascend and leave the labyrinth.

Bickslow happily walked before them and held his new glowing stone up as substitute for the missing torch. “Wait 'till Laxus sees this thing”, he smirked happily. His smile disappeared when they walked up into the dungeons and met a few jailers. Their torches inactivated his stone and he pocketed it with a sigh.

Walking back out with the three specialized guards, they ended their little expedition.

Darton and Levy brought the books into the library. The Chair used the time left of this day to finally talk to a few of the young scholars that had arrived since the founding of the Shadow Guard.

Her presence was greatly appreciated and she happily listened to the different studies the young men were currently conducting. She was hopeful that this would lead to more mages joining their ranks as well in the near future.

While she would put her position as chair first, she still wanted to learn more about her own abilities. Today had made it unmistakably clear that she had much left to learn, that magic had its definite dangers when used without expertise.

  


In the evening, Bickslow was perched on his windowsill, waiting until his guarding shift started. He played with the green crystal, folding his hands around it to see it shine through the gaps between his fingers. Laxus had to find this at least as exciting as he did. It would be a fun distraction from the man's usual stress. Mirajane ought to like it too. Hell, he wanted to show it to everyone.

Maybe Rose too? She didn't seem big on art, but she could see natural beauty when it was before her. That's was at least one reason she frequented the palace gardens. It would be fun to impress her a little, especially after what happened between them when he trained her.

He still didn't understand why she had told him to back off. She had seemed to enjoy their shared moment at least as much as him. Something deep down in her soul hindered her from embracing them. It itched in him to creep under her skin and find out what. Hadn’t he feared she could have a fuse short enough to seriously injure him if he tried again, he certainly wouldn't have just taken her rejection like this, without any explanation.

Speaking of the devil. The redhead was walking out again.

He pocketed the stone and took a hold of the window frame. Easing himself over to a thick vine, he climbed down the castle wall. Elegantly hopping over the bushes below, he landed in the grass and stood.

He walked toward the door that any sane human would have used to exit, aiming to show the crystal to the hight constable. He stopped first when he heard another voice. Arcadios was already speaking with the redhead.

“How has Your Grace been?”, the man asked and she chuckled. “Just fine, thank you, General. Or no, it is Champion now, isn't it? I suspect you being at Darton's side is no coincidence. Did you follow him from the castle right away or find him later on?”

“Actually”, the man began in a serious tone. “I was part of a guard troop for a while, but when food became sparse, they quickly turned to banditry. When I left, I was hunted. Darton found me hiding in a cave on the edge of starvation and brought me to his estate instead. No one dared attack me there. He enabled me to put an end to the group of bandits that had formed around me. I now repay the debt of my life to him.”

“I will make sure to thank him then. I'm glad to see you alive”, Rose told the knight cheerfully.

Bickslow inched closer, watching as the two sat down on a bench among the evergreen. He knew that listening in to people's conversations wasn't considered fine etiquette, but he had never cared about that either way. He wanted to know more about her, to understand her.

“And? Did you find what you were looking for in the labyrinth? I saw you bring out books”, the High Constable prodded. Arcadios didn't seem inclined to tell her much more, though. He simply answered, “Yes. We found what we were looking for.”

Rose gave a deep sigh. “Geh. First Bickslow and now you too, I feel left out”, she joked. “Haha. Tough is the life of the high constable”, the knight laughed and she smiled brightly, jesting back, “You have no idea.”

There was a long silence between the two old friends and Bickslow held his breath. It had been many years since they last saw each other, but they seemed close even now. Whatever had transpired back then had enabled them to put real trust into another. That had its limits as well, though. This showed itself when the knight asked, “Why won't you tell me about that scar? Were you being clumsy?”

“Not quite”, the redhead evaded and Bickslow could see that the man had hit a sore spot. That scar on her face was connected to some pretty dark emotions, downright horrid memories. He would not have dug any further, but Arcadios obviously didn't see what he did, not understanding the woman's hesitance.

“Come on, you can trust me, no?”, he asked light-heartedly. “I really don't wanna talk about it”, Rose snarled and he crossed his arms over his chest. “It isn't healthy to close yourself in. I know, I used to do it myself”, he insisted.

That was the last string. Rose stood up with a start and glared back at him. “Don't you lecture me, Arcadios”, she hissed. “Don't you fucking lecture me.”

The knight was taken aback by her sudden hostility. He lowered his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't bring it up again”, Rose simply stated before flopping back down beside him. “I won't”, Arcadios ensured her.

Bickslow sighed. It seemed she had made aggressive avoidance her standard response to any attempts of questioning. That did not make it easier for him.

Dispirited, he silently headed back inside. His shift would soon begin.

  


 


	8. The Church of Zentopia

When Levy finally returned to her duties as chair and worked with the scholars and apprentices, a whole bunch of mages came to the capital. They gathered in the libraries around the city to study their craft under the protection of The Scholarship of The Crown.

There were wise men and accomplished witches as well as young and inexperienced boys and girls in their ranks, the perfect combination for the inheritance of knowledge and discovery of new one. Both Levy and Darton often took part in the experiments of the chemists and mages.

The Chair also occasionally tried out ideas for her own magic ability in her private study. She was determined not harm anyone else, to know what would happen before she cast her spells in the future.

The effect she had managed to create on Gajeel's skin was very interesting and well worth studying, but she made sure to keep silent about it even among other mages. She didn't even have to talk with Darton to know the archmage wouldn't speak a word of it, either.

When mind spells were first detected, their capability to harm others caused great troubles far beyond the borders of Fiore. Luckily, counter spells and potions had been found since, but the epidemic of men falling into insanity and loosing their minds to the control of others had left a deep scar in the history of magic.

If someone started experimenting with inscribing runes into humans, there was no telling what could happen. Levy's spell had been one of protection and yet it had caused a lot of pain. What a spell designed to destroy or alter might do to a living thing, she didn't even want to think about. To find out, there was only one way. You had to try it. Something like this could end in sheer horrid cruelty.

That was why she made sure to write and store the documentation of her own spells in the underground archive where only few had access to it. Luckily, there was little risk anyone would see the magical brand on Gajeel as he always let his long hair hang free over his shoulders.

The young healer Wendy also made for Crocus during this time of renewal. She had discovered the magic in her herbs and ointments and was determined to learn more about her craft as scholar and mage.

The young girl again didn't wait for any permission from her elders. She hid under the same black rogue's cloak she had used when visiting the capital the first time around. Leaving a small note on her pillow, she pulled the hood up, and sneaked out of the Fairy Tail castle on silent feet. She soon left Magnolia Town behind her, walking through the shadows of the night.

In Hargeon, she had little trouble finding a ride with one of the trading caravans. She paid the traders with the little gold she had earned over the last year, curing small pains and cooking up remedies for common colds and infections. Hopping up on one of the carriages, she made herself comfortable between sacks of cloth and barrels of Hargeon salt as the sun rose over the roofs of the harbour city.

If Wendy could help, she would, no matter the dangers in her path. She knew Makarov only wanted the best for her when he held her back and told her to hide out, to wait until the country was truly stable, but she wouldn't back down and hide her ability. She could help accomplish that very stability with her own two hands.

Once she joined the scholarship, she would be safe enough. The mages were a valuable asset and all the guards knew it. People held great respect for them and apprentices like her were appreciated. She had little to fear once she reached the flowering city with its calm community and protective high walls.

It was the road there that was treacherous for her kind.

While the caravan she travelled with had a handful of armed men riding alongside it, that was by no means a guarantee for their safe arrival. Bandits still roamed Crocus Rove in great numbers. It had been but half a year ago that The Crown was reinstated, and many were still caught in their old ways. Any group able to outnumber them could get it into their head to attack.

A little girl like her would likely be abducted instead of killed at least. If she revealed her abilities, she wouldn't be harmed. She would be held captive by the bandits or sold off somewhere, though.

Knowing the risks, she kept her eyes open. Especially along the sections where the road led straight through the rich forests of central Fiore, the caravan was careful to always watch its flanks as well as back. It was far too easy to hide out and plan an ambush in these areas and the slow pace of their little group left them especially vulnerable.

The large grey cobbles underneath them made the cart ride very bumpy and forced the horses to walk slowly. A gallop might not only crack the wooden wheels, but posed the risk of a steed stumbling and injuring its legs.

At least the goods they carried weren't worth very much to hungry thieves. Salt and cloth didn't make for an awfully appetising meal. Only a group that targeted trading materials would reveal its position for their carts.

If they were lucky, they wouldn't run into any robbers numerous and organised enough to take them on. If a desperate group of small-time thieves attacked, they ought to be able to fend them off without too much trouble.

Not one day down the road, they found the graves of the slaughter on Crocus Rove. The graves of the ambush victims were still unnamed. Only Jessalyn had her initials carved into the stone above it. The townspeople had been able to tell who she was when burring the men and women.

Pausing, the merchants knelt down before the graves and prayed. There was great joy to their muffled whispers. They didn't mourn, but thanked the fallen for their sacrifice. It was thanks to these brave souls that they were able to make this trip today.

Wendy joined them as well, but she sent her prayer to Ophiuchus instead, hoping the dead might hear her and see that they were still missed. None of her friends had been among the dead, but she had known some of the soldiers that spent their days in The Hargeon Rest.

She looked up first when the sound of hooves echoed along the clearing.

Three mounted figures neared in on them from the west in a calm trot. Two of the riders were heavily armoured and the third was quite obviously a priest. His simple long robe and white z ucchetto were standard attire for the Zentopia Church. 

Standing up, Wendy inspected the group curiously along with the rest of the guards and traders. It was very unusual for a man of the gods to leave his town of residence. It had to be a special occasion.

The priest was still quite young for his position, perhaps 50 years of age. The men riding right and left of him had to be paladins, protectors of the church and its rites. These knights were blessed by the gods and only listened to the authority of the church and the deities themselves. 

One of them was young and energetic looking. He had an unsorted scruff of dark red hair on his head and a bright grin plastered on his face. A lance was sticking out of its carrying pouch and a large shield was fastened to the other side of the saddle. 

The equipment was obviously imbued with magic. The face of the tower shield was still perfectly smooth although the rim had been worn down over the years, covered in scratches and gashes . It was most probably some sort of protective spell. The mirror-like surface hinted toward a type of harm reflection. 

The other paladin was far older than his comrade, his hair entirely white already. He was large, fiercely muscular, and his face was grim. This man was war forged and stoic, hard gray eyes glaring ahead. The orderly haircut only further emphasized his serious nature.

In his hand was no sword or spear, but an old silverwood staff.

Such implements were the weaponry of a powerful mage. It allowed some to gain greater control over their abilities, channeling the magic they were casting through the uniform nature of the staff instead of a chaotic human body. The use of this kind of aid was very complicated and required an incredible amount of concentration, but could greatly increase the mage's power and precision.

It wasn't uncommon for paladins to have magical equipment like this. The knights trained from a young age on, able to focus entirely and specialize in the use of these powerful artifacts, and the church was still rich enough to afford the expenses that came with enchanting items.

In old times, the church collected its own taxes and forced men and women to give a part of their earnings to the cause of the gods. T he priests often acted like lords, convict ing commoners according to the rules of the Zentopian believe. T heir paladins would then execute the sentences as any loyal soldier would . 

Back the n, any lord that wasn't at least pretending to be a man of the church would mysteriously vanish and commoners that dared oppose the paladins or speak out against the church would be publicly hung. 

Such practices were frowned upon today. T he church was now a respected and loved organization that helped those in need and soothed the souls of the damaged. Their history was tainted, but because the last survivors of their cruelty, as well as the last priests that had taken the law into their own hands, had died of old age several years ago , there was little bad blood left. 

Wendy bowed her head as the three riders closed in both to hide her face and to show her respect.

The three men were headed for the capital as well, but had decided to visit these graves first. The priest blessed the earth that the men and women of the quest of the Freehearts had been buried in and prayed for their souls.

The magic that lingered in the air around him was warm and friendly, protecting this resting ground from the spirits of evil.

Traveling alongside the church members eased the caravan's trip greatly. Even if there had been bandits hiding in the thicket, there was no way they would dare engage two paladins. Riding all the way through to Crocus without any trouble, the merchants thanked their protectors and headed for the market.

Wendy made for the castle to speak with Levy and perhaps find some accommodations. The three church members rode the very same way and the young paladin offered her a ride. She hopped up behind him and let herself he escorted to Mercurius.

Waiting in the throne room, she looked about herself curiously. It looked marvelous now that the chamber had been cleaned. The last time she stood here, the entire floor had been drenched in blood and the unappetizing smell of death had hung in the air. This time, no one was covered in red and no swords were drawn. The grin of death had left. 

Since the court had awaited a response form the church, it wasn't long before Laxus walked into the throne room in a strong st r ide . Wendy had to agree with the gossip that went around the land, he really looked majestic in the fine robes and slim crown. 

At his side was Freed, >and right behind them entered Levy and Gajeel. Smiling, Wendy tugged her hood down and walked over to them. The castle guards reacted to her sudden approach immediately, drawing weapons and heading for her, but the king signaled them to halt before they reached the small girl. 

He had expected something like this. The petite bluenette had never let anyone stop her, even when she was younger still. She had the same fight in her as Levy. It seemed clever minds and kindness mixed well with adventurous recklessness and heroism. 

That she had left for Hargeon or even for Crocus during their quest hadn't come as great surprise to him when it happened . It had worried him a bit, though. While he never truly had spoken with her, he considered her to be family. She was part of the Fairy Tail Guard after all. 

“Wendy? What are you doing here?”, Levy asked surprised as the girl stopped before her. She hugged the smaller bluenette and then firmed her eyes. “Did you run away again?”

“Maybe”, Wendy smiled and she shook her head, sighing lightly. “That's dangerous”, she scolded, but her words didn't sound even close to harsh as she herself remembered how annoying it was to be protected instead of being allowed to explore the world on your own terms.

The girl before her had saved her champion and many other soldiers the day of the final battle. Hadn't she sneaked with them, hiding in their very ranks as an unknown rogue, and she not been there at the gates on that faithful day, there was no telling what might have been the outcome. What was clear, was that there would have been far more casualties without her caring hand and expertise.

“Welcome to Crocus”, Laxus merely greeted and she smiled up at him. “Thank you, My King.”

Freed looked slightly amused as well. He too had seen the girl grow up and was well aware she would never stop hunting knowledge. She was determined to learn and to protect her friends in any way she could. He was sure she would be a great asset here in the capital.

Giving a dejected sigh, Levy shook her head, but gave in. “I'm glad you're here. There is someone you should meet. She is a young healer as well. You could surely learn a lot from each other”, she continued instead of trying to give a somewhat hypocritical lecture, and the girl nodded happily.

Ordering one of the guards to escort their new arrival, Laxus gave the girl a room in the castle, right by the chambers of some of the other mage apprentices. If she was going to live as mage, she would end up there sooner or later.

Levy made a mental note to write to Lord Dreyar in the evening to inform him of the whereabouts of the missing girl. Perhaps she had notified Makarov already, but it would be good if he received confirmation that she was safe.

Laxus took his seat and Levy walked over to her spot beside the throne. She faced their visitors and refocused. Finally, the church had responded to her letter. That they had come personally was a very good sign.

“It is an honour to welcome a priest in these chambers”, Laxus began and the priest bowed lightly. “The honour is all mine, Your Highness. I am Fabrizio, priest of the Zentopia Church. I am here to help maintain the gods' houses of Crocus.” He was being very respectful, making it clear the church too accepted him as true king and sovereign.

Laxus nodded. “I would like to see you take that responsibility and I would leave the Crocus Church in your hands”, he declared, inviting them fully into the capital. Fiore was still to a great majority Zentopian. He himself had been brought up in the religion's spirit and did believed in its teachings. The reason he seldom prayed was not a lack of conviction, but rather one of poor faith in the impact of the deities, in their willingness to listen to the ordinary humans below.

“Also”, Levy added, “We would be pleased if the church considered blessing the crown family.” Fabrizio nodded at that. “It would be my honour to bless the king and queen, as should have been done immediately during coronation and wedding.”

“For now, I believe I will take your offer and make myself at home in the beautiful church of this city”, he added and Laxus gestured him dismissed.

  


The priest's entrance at the grand church caused an eruption of cheering around the central of the flowering capital. The people had missed the presence of their church. It was another sign of peace, of a calm that would last for generations to come.

For the first time in over twenty years, the church bells rung to service and the men and women flocked to the gods' house, lighting candles and singing praise with joy. The raucous reached all the way to the castle and Levy closed the window of the royal library before turning back to the apprentices currently studying here.

“Wendy”, she called her friend and the young bluenette shut her book, obediently coming to her side. “Sherria”, she called, and another girl stood from her desk. She was only a few years older than Wendy and almost as petite. Her amaranth hair was tied into cute pigtails that swayed as she stopped just before the chair. “Yes, My Lady?”

“This is Wendy Marvell, a healer from Magnolia Town”, Levy introduced. “Wendy, this is Sherria Blendy, a healer from Margaret Town. Similar to you, she lived in a guard castle, that of Lamia Scale.”

The two girls eyed another for a moment and then smiles formed on their faces. “Friends?”, Sherria offered and the bluenette nodded happily.

The scene was adorable, but Levy felt a responsibility as chair to push them to live up to their potential. “I expect the both of you to study hard. A good healer can change the course of history”, she lectured half-heartedly, one finger in the air to emphasize her point.

The girls dutifully saluted, “Yes, Chair! We will.” “Good”, she smiled. She observed as Wendy picked her book off the table she had been at and instead joined Sherria at another. Together they hunched over the writings about the inherit magic of nature.

Driven by the insatiable curiosity of true scholars, they would go far. If you knew how to use and direct the magic of the world itself, you could conserve your own energy and create far more powerful spells, including healing spells and magical medicines.

Levy herself had been intrigued by the subject, but found that her connection was not to nature, but to literature, a far more puzzling and vastly unknown field of study. Even Darton hadn't been able to teach her much more about it, only giving her a few pointers as to what she could try.

After writing to Lord Dreyar, she focused on preparing the ceremony for the blessing of the crown family instead. Since it wouldn't be performed in the context of another celebration as was tradition, she had to improvise a little.

Deciding on a public event, she organised for Laxus and Mirajane to stand out on the great balcony together with Fabrizio for their blessing. That way, the word of their newly gained favour would travel faster. It was a carefully orchestrated political theatre.

  


On the day of the ceremony, they gathered above the throne room and the king and queen stepped out onto the great balcony hand in hand. Fabrizio walked outside was well and spoke to the masses before turning his attention to the crown family.

Rose, Yukino, the paladins, and the three royal guards all stood just behind them, keeping a watchful eye on their respective liege form the shade of castle. Levy and Gajeel, as well as Darton and Arcadios, had joined the ceremony too, but made sure to keep in the background of the events.

Fabrizio raised a hand and recited the prayers from memory alone. Everyone stood quiet to watch.

The warm hugging magic that engulfed the crown family stroked the bystanders, ghosting over their skin, and Rose took a deep breath. Levy was standing a full ten meters further into the castle, but she too could feel the blessing emanating from the white robed man. Even among the commoners and guards in the yard below, some could sense the ease that the man's prayer weaved into the air.

Darton sighed in pleasure at the friendly sensation. “A most fascinating magic, the blessing of the priests, don't you think?”, he asked quietly and Levy nodded. If there had ever been a reason to put trust into the deities above, this was it.

She was unable to take her eyes off the happening, taking every last sway of the man's hand in with fascination. It was as though he let the magic flow through the air before himself without as much as taking it in to manipulate it, without corrupting it with his own influence. A skill like this must take decades to perfect.

While the firm paladin Byro Cracy kept his eyes glued to this historical moment, his younger comrade Dan Straight didn't seem half as fascinated. He instead spent his time eyeing the female soldier standing a few meters away from him.

Once the ceremony was finished and he could speak without being rude, he walked over to the high constable. She didn't take notice of his approach as she listened to the conversation Mirajane was having with the priest about her hopefully impending pregnancy.

“You look even better in armour than me”, Dan declared cheerfully and she raised an eyebrow at the odd man that suddenly stood at her side. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”, she snarled and he shrugged innocently. “Merely stating the facts”, he flirted and the redhead huffed a laugh. “Ridiculous.”

The flirtatious knight didn't let off that easily. Since the evening banquet required Rose to stay at the king's side, he had every opportunity to spout one liners, and to her own great surprise, he managed to make her laugh heartedly at most of them.

“You are the silliest man I have run across in a long time”, she laughed and he just kept grinning widely.

It was a half lie. Bickslow was about as ridiculous as this guy, but the paladin didn't have any restraint whatsoever. Perhaps more importantly, he wasn't as blindly loyal as the royal guard, at least not to his superiors. He struck her as a man that would fight for what he believed in, and not because of mere orders.

Smiling a little, she leaned in and gave him an appreciative peck on the cheek.

The paladin turned bright red and then hooted in joy, jumping into the air and giving her a new reason to snigger.

It felt good to let loose like this again. It had been a while. With this guy, she wouldn't have to worry about a thing. He was cheerful, not suicidal, there was no war, and he was funny in the most adorable way.

Deciding to give it a try, she raised her glass anew. “To the king and queen. And to new friendships”, she toasted and the knight happily joined in, downing his entire cup. She mirrored him to celebrate the day and set the goblet back down with a sigh of satisfaction.

Bickslow pretended not to take notice, but it did bug him. He was jealous, he realised that, but he still felt like he had more to offer than that goof of a paladin. What could the newcomer possibly have that he didn't?

Sure, he was a paladin. That was impressive in itself, but Bickslow was the one and only guard master of the Shadow Guard. Dan couldn't make any such, claims, now could he?

Sighing, the rogue instead drowned his anger in wine. It was a day of celebration. If he wasn't able to do that sober, he would let loose like this instead. He didn't have any pressing work to do tomorrow any way.

  


 


	9. A Deal With Seven

Laxus took a deep breath.

They had discussed this back and forth for hours and days.

There was no way he could risk his position as king by making an enemy of the nobles this early on. Chances were, the soldiers enrolled in his military would turn on him, not to speak of the guards around the country, all loyal to their respective city lord. He not only could not, he would not start a civil war.

He also couldn't break down his symbols of power without fearing the same weakening effect on his sovereignty and thus the stability of Fiore as whole. Having cities declare independence wasn't acceptable if he aimed to protect civil rights and effectively fight crime.

To tax the commoners before the drought had passed was simply inhumane.  Many had used up all their savings long ago and still fought to make a living. The people had to be able to afford food and other necessities before they could be burdened with economical demands .  No, t he people  of Fiore  simply could  no t pay for the renovations necessary in the current situation. 

There was no other choice. He had to go beg assistance  from  a neighbor.

Bosco wasn't an option.  T he clash at the Tower of Heaven  all those years ago had further hardened the relationship between Fiore and the wildly forested country.  Now, those responsible for the attack on the disputed island were at power.  It seemed they would never be much more than trading partners. 

Minstrel didn't have any intensive to help Fiore, either. While the y traded  a lot and there was the occasional immigrant ,  the large country's  culture wasn't even remotely similar  to theirs and the notion of lending money to another kingdom was ludicrous to the Minstreal nobles. 

That left only the kingdom of Seven.

It was most certainly a reason to worry.  While the country was swimming in riches, t he king of Seven was known to be  a  vein and cruel  man .  Alden Holt's  leadership was very profitable for his people, but for his people  only . They would have to give the man something of value in return  for the assistance . What t hat could possibly be , Laxus had no idea, but he knew he had to try. 

Leaving his kingdom in the safe hands of his queen and the high constable, he travelled to Seven with his royal guards and the chair. As his main advisor, she was the obvious choice. Usually, an excursion like this would be accompanied by a whole group of councillors, but they were needed in the capital.

Taking a ship from Dahlia, they rounded the headland that was stretching for the north, and made for one of the harbours in the Southern Bay of Seven.

Their welcome in the foreign country was somewhat underwhelming. Only a handful of guards met them at the harbour to escort them over the mountain ranges and to the grand capital. It worried Levy a little that the king of Seven put this little effort into greeting them. It showed how little Holt cared. In fact, she suspected it was explicitly to show them that he didn't care, that he didn't think of Laxus Dreyar as a king to reckon with. Such a position would not make their negotiations any easier.

As the carriages wound their way down into the capital, the entire group of travellers gaped out of the small windows.

Zita was an astonishing sight. The entire city was plastered with smoothest sandstone and every single house was at least three stories high. Space between the mountains had become so sparse they had to reach for the sky in order to house more people.

The sounds of the bustling markets mixed with the singing of street performers and marching of hundreds of guards, patrolling the streets in troops up to ten heads strong.

Fountains, wells, and small streams splashed water along the streets and plazas. In a dry nation like Seven, water was always considered a valuable resource and the drought that was plaguing this area of the world had only further increased its value. That all the fountains were still running despite that fact only showed what a pompous taste the nobles living here had.

Laxus leaned back in his seat tiredly. What in all of Earth Land could he possibly offer the king of this great nation? Only its capital was three times as large as Crocus. Maybe Holt would request he share some of Fiore's magical secrets. He hoped not, for that he could not do. It would be the ultimate betrayal against his people and all the mages.

He straightened out his sleeves as their caravan stopped before the castle. The build was at least as impressive as Mercurius, and far larger. Before the intricately decorated iron doors stood over two dozen guards, all dressed in polished knight's armour, weapon unsheathed and held before themselves dutifully.

Laxus cleared his throat and the coachman hopped down from his seat, opening the door of the carriage from the outside. The king stepped outside and after him followed his three royal guards.

Levy too exited her cart together with her champion. She walked over to her sovereign and stated, “Just keep your head high. He is trying to intimidate us, but he wouldn't dare to start a war.” The blonde gave a tiny nod. That the men before them held their swords in hand didn't really worry him. He had full confidence in his guards.

Taking the lead, he walked up to the castle and the doors swung open for him with a loud and uncomfortable scraping sound.

That the king of Seven kept the doors to his castle closed only reinforced the impression that he wasn't the type to give audience to commoners. Laxus hadn't even laid eyes on the king yet and he already hated the guy. Holt seemed like a highly unpleasant and harshly disrespectful fellow.

They were led into the throne room and announced loudly as they stepped into the gold and cloth decorated hall.

“The king of Fiore, Laxus Dreyar the first, Slayer of the Phantom Lord, and court.”

Himself, Laxus had never added that last part to his title. It seemed Phantom Lord had been well known even here in Seven. Perhaps this would give him a little more authority to work with. The slayer of a notorious bandit group deserved a certain amount of admiration.

The hall was larger than his own throne room and one big show of wealth. Even the throne itself was clad in gold. It looked very uncomfortable and he was glad to have his own slightly simpler wooden version at home.

On the shining throne sat a middle aged man with far too dark rings under his eyes. His clothes were beyond pompous. Laxus was pretty sure he couldn't actually get up with that ridiculous mantle over his shoulders and the large crown that was perched on his dark hair looked hard to balance.

An asymmetrical sneer was plastered on Alden Holt's face and by his side stood no adviser, no councillor, only more guards. He clearly thought very highly of himself not to bring anyone else into a discussion like this.

Motioning to the group that entered with both of his white gloved hands, the man mused happily, “Laxus Dreyar, the new king of Fiore. Welcome.”

Laxus bowed his head ever so lightly to show his respect. He was here to ask a favour, so whether he liked it or not, he had to suck up to this guy. “I'm honoured to be here”, he stated and a crackle echoed through the hall. “I'm sure you are. An inexperienced brat like you to stand before a real king.”

Laxus bit his tongue and exhaled slowly. This was the only person that could help. He had to stay calm. He simply had to. “Indeed, I have a lot to learn”, he managed in a fairly calm voice.

Holt gave a sound of amusement before leaning back against numerous cushions. “You are not here to chit chat, though, are you? What is it you need from me?”, he asked cheerfully. It was clear Holt was enjoying his power rush, sitting on his high seat with another king coming to his halls to ask for help.

Laxus didn't think there was any point in trying to beat around the bush. This man's ego would be fed best if he simply put his cards on the table. Also, it would be quicker, and he was in no mood to hear this man speak for one second longer than he absolutely had to.

“Money”, he stated curtly.

The king of Seven nodded knowingly, pouting his lips a little in mockery. “Of course you do. Money, what else? And what do you have to offer me in return?”, he asked in a bored tone of voice before raising an eyebrow at the blonde before him.

Laxus knew he didn't have a satisfactory offer to make. He just hoped that the reason they were even heard, were standing here right now, was that the other king did have an idea of what he might be able to give. “What do you want?”, he simply returned the question.

“A princess would be good”, Holt shrugged at once and he repressed a sigh. “We haven't been blessed with any offspring”, he explained. Holt would have to request something else.

The king of Seven laughed again and Laxus had to make an effort as not to roll his eyes at the theatrical royal. Couldn't the man just speak his fucking mind without the big gestures and play of voice? What a clown.

“You are going to have children, though, right? Or are you not man enough to?”, Holt asked jestingly and a few of the guards around him chuckled as if on command.

Laxus was taken aback by that. That the other king used this opportunity to mock him didn't come as any surprise, but that he would negotiate the life of someone that was not even conceived yet. He had no idea what he should have expected, but this was not it. “You want me to promise the hand of my not yet existing daughter to you?”, he asked, making sure he understood the situation.

The other simply nodded. “To my second son, yes.”

The blonde's eyebrows furrowed. Alden's second was already adult. “He will be far older than her”, he said before he had the sense to think better of it and rephrase. It wasn't unusual for arrangements like these. Age was not a factor when it came to royal marriage. He knew that, and yet… “No way in hell”, he stated firmly.

Holt gave another theatrical shrug, throwing his arms out to the sides, “Then I am afraid you came here for naught. What a shame.”

Laxus took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. He needed... no, his people needed this deal. “Please. Anything else”, he requested, but the other king shook it off at once. “No, no. I don't negotiate with simple men like you. Once you realise you can't run a country on conviction alone, you come back and talk with sense.”

Glaring at the man sitting on his throne with such an arrogant smirk and such ludicrous demands, Laxus repressed the growl that was threatening to creep up his throat. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked back out.

Levy organised a room for them at the closest inn and Laxus stomped into the rented chambers in aggravation. Taking a glass of water off the table, he downed it and sat it down again hard enough to cause the decanter to sway. 

That guy couldn't be fucking serious!

“You have to accept his terms”, a calm voice spoke.

He spun around to glare at The Chair instead. Was she kidding? Her expression was serious, but he couldn't believe she would ever suggest something like that. “I'm serious”, she added, meeting his anger head on with her own rational calm.

If he truly lost it, there were four of the best guards in the room that would stop him, so she felt safe enough to advise him with brutal honesty. “You have to accept that your future daughter will be married for money”, she spelled it out entirely.

“I can't. Can't you see that I just can't?”, Laxus asked louder than intended. “That guy wants me to…” He felt like he couldn't breathe any more. “I don't even have…”, he began in aggravation, but she nodded in understanding before he even found words for all the things that were wrong with this deal.

“I get that, but there is little else we can do.” Levy took a seat and crossed her legs. She really was serious, but she understood entirely that the king didn't like it. She didn't either, for more reasons than the purely personal pain of such a commitment.

They had to alter the terms somehow, find a way to slip through Holt's slimy little fingers.

She smiled a little as an idea formed in her mind. “Take a gamble”, she said and Laxus frowned back at her in bewilderment. “Make it conditional. If we can pay him back before your daughter turns eighteen, the deal is off.”

“We won't be able to”, Evergreen protested at once and she shook her head. “We just might, if the trade grows enough. A secondary harbour near Dahlia and a fresh trading route might just do the trick”, she stated.

Freed nodded in understanding. He had glanced at the report about Crocus Rove. With the new path it would take, her estimate was reasonable enough. “She is right. If we go all in, take out a loan big enough to truly reform, and start building right away, we might be able to make it back before the wedding”, he agreed.

“Sounds reasonable”, Bickslow confirmed. He was no expert on the matter, but he could imagine the effect such a radical remodelling would have. Trading caravans were some of the best sources of information since they travelled all around the country, so he knew a good couple of traders and was well aware of their struggles.

“How sure are you of that?”, Laxus asked and Levy shrugged. “I'd say our chances are good. A renewed trading route would gain us enough money to pay Seven back within ten years. But...” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was awful to reduce a human life to numbers this way, to compare its value to gold.

“It would require that the road is completed within five years from now, the absolute minimum amount of time the scholars have estimated for such a project. That would then leave a margin of three to four years. That's not a lot when talking about these kinds of magnitudes. It is not impossible, but it is taking a chance.”

“Taking a chance on your child's future or selling off our cultural inheritance and possibly the power to facilitate real change. This decision isn't fair”, Freed frowned concerned. “It isn't”, Levy agreed. Evergreen sighed aloud. “But it is the best we've got, right?”

There was no way to sugar coat this. It was what they had to work with. A gamble on a human life to make sure a nation could thrive or guaranteed unrest and perhaps even civil war. A third option did not exist.

“What an asshole”, Evergreen hissed under her breath. She was glaring at the opposite wall as though trying to melt it.

“He is a smart man. Cold hearted and dislikeable, but smart. If we don't pay him back in time, he will unite Fiore with Seven under his flag”, Levy sighed. “Not if I have a son first”, Laxus grumbled irritably and she looked back at him in silence.

The way her hazel eyes inspected him left him almost insecure. It was the same look she gave him whenever he tried to understand a piece of writing and got something wrong. It was a teachers look. “What?”, he finally demanded and she avoided his eyes uncomfortably.

“That is true, but assassins are cheap”, she mumbled.

Perhaps she was a bad person to instantly think this way, but it was realistic at least. With a man like Holt, the prudent thing to do was to assume the worst.

Laxus's eyes widened. He hadn't even had such a thought. If he did have a son and then a daughter that married the prince of Seven, the throne of Fiore would just be one bloody dagger away from the king of Seven. It wasn't just one life he potentially traded in for the well-being of his country.

It was his country, though. He had taken this responsibility upon himself when he killed the Phantom Lord and stood upon the throne plateau with his sword held high. He could have taken another course of action. He could have given this burden to someone else, but he had sworn to Jessalyn, to his grandfather, and to the people of Fiore that he would take care of them. Now was the time to live up to that vow.

“But it is all we've got”, he echoed and Levy nodded. “Yea. It's all we've got.”

“Aright then. Let's kiss some royal hind and get that gold. At least my people are going to live good lives. That is what I promised them and that is what I will give them”, the king declared dutifully.

He met with Alden Holt one more time, walking into the grand hall and standing tall before the arrogant ass that called himself sovereign of Seven.

“Come to your senses, have you? I'm actually a little impressed it didn't take you longer”, Holt chuckled in amusement, but Laxus didn't let himself be riled up now.

“I will promise my future daughter's hand to your son under one condition”, he declared. “You have to pay the exact amount my chair demands without any hesitation or delay and if we are able to pay you back before the wedding day, the deal is off and our debt settled.”

Alden Holt looked to the tiny bluenette that advised the king of Fiore and she handed a paper to one of the man's guards. When Holt received the paper, he raised an eyebrow. The amount they were asking now was by far higher than he had imagined.

He folded the paper down and smirked over at Laxus Dreyar with a small nod, “Fine, fine. I will accept those terms.” He clearly didn't believe Fiore would be able to repay the amount of money they asked for in such a short time, no matter in what they invested. It didn't matter how much he had to lend them if he ended up uniting the kingdoms through marriage. He probably figured their terms were only to ramp up the amount they could get out of this deal, so that the great and proud Laxus Dreyar could live out his term with grace.

  


Laxus sighed aloud when he sat back down in his carriage.

How was he going to explain all this to Mirajane? She had to understand his position. Hopefully she wouldn't hate him, at least too much, or for too long. They both wanted what was best for their people, but this, it was so personal. He could almost hear her voice already, screaming at him.

His nervousness only grew over the days it took to return to Crocus. He didn't enjoy the welcome in the least, a huge stone lying in his stomach. Mirajane stood before him in all her beauty and he swallowed hard. “How did it go?”, she asked and he shrugged a little. “Well, we did get a loan.”

The queen clasped her hands together in joy. She had worried when she saw him enter. He looked so gloomy, but everything had turned out aright. “That's great news!”, she cheered and he ran a hand over his neck awkwardly. “Uhm, yea.”

He took his wife's hand and led her away from the throne room. He didn't stop before they were back in the privacy of their own chambers, only Freed at the door to hear the inevitable fight about to erupt within.

Never in his entire life had he been this scared.

Not even when he rode into battle in Mai had his stomach threatened to clamp together in such pain. Not even when a crossbow bolt had been aimed at his head had he felt like he might collapse and burst into tears out of sheer worry.

He had expected something might happen when he rode into that fight. He had been ready for an injury, for blood and pain. But this… If she hated him, he wouldn't know how to go on.

“Mira, sit down, would you?”, he requested and she frowned back at him worriedly. His pupils were dilated and his breathing quick. It left her to imagine the worst. Stepping even closer to him instead, she stroked a hand over his cheek. “Laxus, what's wrong?”

The blonde took her hand, removing it from him. He couldn't deal with her sweetness right now, not when he had to tell her something this… awful.

He knew she hated the way people talked about her as a mother already and now he had made her future children even more than just a hot topic for political debate and gossip. He had made one of her daughters into a bargaining chip.

Freed wrung his hands together. He was nervous as he waited outside the royal chambers. He didn't even want to imagine how hard this situation was for his liege. How did you tell the person you love that your child was going to be part of a gamble like this?

“You did what?!”, the queen's voice echoed through the halls and the green haired swordsman jumped a little. When other guards turned into the corridor in worry, he waved them away dismissively. Mirajane and Laxus should most certainly not be interrupted right now.

He was just glad Yukino was not on shift right now. She would have insisted to check on her liege.

Laxus held his arms before his face as his wife launched herself at him. He knew she would react like this. Of course she would. He would probably have done the same in her situation, instinctively attack the first person that could possibly be blamed.

“Mira, I'm sorry, but there was no other way”, he tried to calm her, but she was in blind rage. “No! You do not sell out children to some stinking old king! Laxus, what were you thinking?! That's our child you are talking about! That is our daughter!”, she screamed.

Laxus could feel his heart breaking in his chest as he saw tears roll down her face. Anger, he could handle. He could let her take it out on him. She could hit him if she wanted to, that was fine. But to see her cry killed him inside.

He slung his arms around her and she trashed against his hold in fury and grief, spitting vile curses at him.

She felt so betrayed, so helpless and so fucking mad! She had put her aggressions behind her long ago, had learned to stay calm even when the world turned out to be painfully unfair. Now, it all came back to her as though she was still fighting for her life. Every last fibre of her body screamed with the need to hurt someone and Laxus happened to be the closest target.

She balled her fists, hitting and kicking at him with all her might, but the blonde just stood still, never easing his grip on her, not even trying to flee her fit of craze. That he accepted even this insane side of her helped subdue her anger over time until she finally found herself again in the midst of the daemon that had taken her heart and instead sobbed against her husband.

It felt like an eternity to him before her curses and both verbal and physical assaults stopped and she finally stilled in his arms. She was shaking and he could swear he was too.

He should probably just have kept quiet instead, let her come to terms with what had happened before he tried to discuss it further, but something possessed him to ask her what he had wondered about himself, “Had she already been born, would you have agreed?”

To marry into another family had been a topic after all. It hadn't sounded so bad.

Mirajane stopped dead at that question. She wanted to look up at him, to see why his voice sounded so distant, but his hold on her wasn't yielding as of yet. He was till containing her, holding onto her to make sure she wouldn't disappear. Taking a firm hold of his robes in turn, she mumbled against his chest, “I don't know.”

Laxus only slowly let go of her again, looking back at her pretty face, her eyes all swollen and red form tears. “I am so sorry. I don't like it either. Believe me, I really don't, but I had no choice. We need to rebuild.” She didn't nod, but she also didn't protest right away.

“Besides, there is hope. It doesn't have to come to that”, Laxus continued and her slim white eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

“If we repay Holt before her eighteenth birthday, the deal is off”, Laxus explained and hope shone in the queen's blue eyes. “How are we going to do that?”, she asked.

It was complicated. There were so many variables to consider, so many pieces of the puzzle that had to fall into place, and to be honest, he didn't know how much impact half of it truly would have, but he could summarise it in one way, “Levy has a plan.”

That calmed Mirajane a little. She trusted the chair. She knew just how incredibly clever the bluenette was. If the scholar had a plan, then Mirajane was willing to take a gamble, even a big one like this.

It still took her several days to find the calm and strength to apologise to her husband for her outburst. He didn't want to hear it, saying that he understood, that he had deserved it, but she insisted. It was how she had learned to deal with her aggressions. She needed him to understand that she really was sorry for her lack of control, that it hadn't been aimed at him at all.

She would have done the same. Because it really was their only option, however cruel that was.

  



	10. The New Crocus Rove

With the funds from Seven, the planed construction works quickly began. Hundreds of workers were hired for each project.

Carpenters, smiths and stonemasons form all around the land flocked to the building sites to find work and help shape their country. Guards and mercenaries were sent out from all mayor cities to secure the roads and help the hoards of men and women on the move.

The old barracks were going to be replaced by modern, well lit and ventilated facilities. The new building methods that had been developed since the time that these old structures were raised, cut the needed man-hours for their rebuilding in half and still provided the necessary stability, without the need for cut stone.

Only the most crucial points were fortified with stone, a measure providing more than enough safety for guards, captives, and civilians alike. For most men, the difference between wood and stone was little once locked inside a room.

Training ranges and accommodations were renovated and two additional court houses were erected near dungeon entrances in the different districts of Crocus.

There were also renovations and new constructions in many other cities, providing the guards and soldiers with the room needed to focus entirely on the job, without any secondary, domestic worries. Food for them was provided in the new barrack kitchens and even the laundry could be given to their nearest bath where special wash rooms had been set up and a few maidens were employed on the weekends.

In the spirit of The Hargeon Inn, other taverns and public houses were invited to become part of the new Crown Orphanage. Children that had no where else to go should be welcomed here, given a room and fed, raised by the communities around them.

Many seemed sceptical to the notion. Who wanted more work that costed money and potentially screamed down the house? Children were to be taken care of by their parents. Some even called for punishment of irresponsible adults that dared abandon their offspring. That most of these children simply did not have any parents left in this world didn't seem to be common knowledge.

Mirajane publicly declared the project to be her idea and explained the concept again in her own words. She celebrated the name Ralph Whitetap in an open letter to the cities and towns, encouraging more to follow in his footsteps and take up the fight for a better future, where no child had to steal or starve.

Despite Michello's disapproval, she even went so far as to tell her own story to the public. Some met the queen's words with resentment, whispering about a criminal in the house of royals, but most praised her for her heroic honesty, that she dared lay all her cards open in this manner. Even with this a heart-warming call for action, though, participation stayed limited.

Economical intensives were asked for, but neither Mirajane nor Laxus wanted to create more maintenance costs now that they had a great debt to pay.

No one liked to admit it, but it came as surprise when the old historian was the one who had the idea that would grant them a breakthrough. He proposed a pompous symbol of prestige for those that selflessly offered up their homes to orphans and invested their resources in the most vulnerable of society, something that would offer value without actually costing The Crown any extra gold.

A drawing of the king's crown was designed and became the icon of the new initiative. A plaque of it would only be allowed where children were helped and safeguarded. This symbol, of course, had to be protected somehow. Therefore, a new law was instated. Smiths were to create a Crown Orphanage emblem only for those that could present an official letter of approval from said orphanage system.

This quickly spread the interest for the project. Many wanted to pride themselves in having the royal symbol over their door, to make it clear to every passer by just what a righteous and respectable person they were.

The law quickly produced a lot of new work. Inspectors had to be sent out undercover and children, as well as adults, had to be interviewed for every single location. Approval had to be given and official designs for the icon had to be distributed. The cost of this entire theatre was still far lower than that of long term support, and it did gave a few men and women a place of employment.

For these positions, only those that themselves had grown up on the streets were allowed. It was a rudimentary form of quality control, to make sure the orphanage staff would keep the children's best interests at heart.

A project that Levy spurred on personally was the healthcare of veterans and elders. Hospitals around the country were reinforced with financial aids under the condition that they treat veterans for free and visit elders in their own homes.

What the chair hadn't anticipated was the effect her measure had on society at large. Several of the soldiers that were no longer fit to hold their weapons decided to help out around, both the medical institutions and the orphanages, once their health improved.

These were men that had a drive to do something, to better the world and care for their fellow man. Being forced to stay at home in sickness had been a nuisance and now that they regained their energy under the caring hands of healers, they took action.

They connected with other injured or lonely souls in a way only those who have experienced hardship could. Instinctively, they created a social safety net around the most needy and helped them gather new strengths. Even the elders and chronically sick did they lure out of their homes to participate and death tolls of sicknesses that affected muscle and bone decreased drastically. It was a social revolution of grand proportions.

Indeed, all of Fiore seemed to bloom, to come to life like the woods in spring. It was a most magical sight and joy warmed the hearts of thousands.

Some had given their sovereign a nickname already. He was The King of the Children, or, if you asked the northern folk, The King of the Crippled and Old. Naturally, no one dared say this to his face, but Bickslow never failed to keep him informed of the gossip going around his kingdom. While these were diminutive titles, he didn't mind them in the least, quite to the contrary. 'Slayer of the Phantom Lord' had a powerful, but also a most brutal ring to it. This was the exact opposite and basked him in a far rosier light.

Having both the murder that initiated his rein and the success of his queen's orphanages and his chair's hospitals in direct association to his name was a great benefit. Mock names always spread quicker than fancy titles and honour bound names and his happened to portray exactly what he needed them to. He was shown as strong, but also as kind.

With any luck, something about roads or trade would soon be added to the list.

Recruiting every stonemason they could get their hands on, as well as two thousand workers and the maids, coachmen, grooms and guards required to care for them, Levy began the work on their by far greatest project. It was their only hope if they wanted to stop their greedy, vein, neighbour from taking over the country in a few decades time.

Travelling to the north, she met with the city lord of Dahlia, the honourable Hector Lytton. His grandfather had been appointed head of Dahlia for his exceptional work as the city's financial advisor and his astounding success as local trader. His knowledge was captured in a whole series books of which Levy had read most, but it was also transferred with care to his child, and later his grandchild.

It was a thoroughly researched request of Lytton to have aid in building a second harbour. He was clearly convinced it was a brilliant idea, having sent out, not one, but three messengers to pitch it in the Capital.

Levy was happy to have his expertise on her side as she discussed the proposed road and pier. Once convinced that he would see his own ideas become reality, he gladly helped out with the planning of the new Crocus Rove itself. For one week, him and the chair did not leave the guard castle, hunching over books, ledgers, and maps until the final draft was ready.

The economist's plans gave great insight on what exactly would be needed for their project to generate the most revenue. The road had to connect all mayor trading cities, including Dahlia, Crocus, Zinla and Mid Bugbane, but also Mai and Hargeon which had gained importance thanks to the Freehearts still residing there.

Gravel and dirt would shift and grow uneven, so stones were still the right choice of material, but the slabs used had to be as smooth as possible so horses and carts could race along, and the rove's curves could never bend too sharply or the grander of caravans would have to slow down.

Lord Lytton pointed out at once that the road would need to be checked upon every year and that stones would have to be replaced or rearranged from time to time when nature decided to move them around or even split them in two with its strong roots.

A road alone made no trading route, mind you. Much had to be in place for a truly thriving rove.

Safe inns, guarded by armed troops, with a day's distance between them would provide travellers with a safe place to sleep and allow horses to rest under protective roofs.

A clear view over at least a hundred meters in all directions from every single point on the rove would scare away bandits and allow for more valuable transports to pass.

Rivers that ran with the street would allow for even quicker transport with big and flat ferries that the merchants could hire on the spot, and all the fortified cities and towns along the road would have to grant entrance or at least shelter to those that arrived at any time of day or night.

Everything mattered. It was after all this that had to pay for the rest of the country's renovations and improvements.

The city lord of course held his peace about the reason why this was so important. He respected the new Crown, and in particular The Chair. Gossip about wedding plans and international agreements that irked the local royalty were not something he would be caught dead with.

Levy also travelled all the way down to Akane, where a small village had begun to arise from the ashes of the burned city. With new and rich trade on its way, the promise of a quickly growing community was in the air and many a man sought his fortune in the ruins by the delta.

The Chair's last stop was Mid Bugbane, where she asked assistance in the form of smaller river boats and manpower when building along the river White Run commenced. Lord Draepip ensured his full cooperation. He was thrilled when he saw the plans.

The new Crocus Rove was not going to follow its original path in the south. It would start out further east than before, in the very ruins of Akane. That way, the East Cut river, too, would be connected with the grand trading route and give anyone close enough to Fiore's border a zippy water route to the rove.

The road would then follow the coast until it reached Hargeon and there arch into the main land. The smooth cut stone would not replace the cobbles all the way to Crocus but rather ease down to the second arm of White Run and follow it all the way to the crook where Zinla came closest to it. From the riverside, the road would reach for the trading centre before cutting through to Crocus itself.

This slight detour connected Mid Bugbane to the network without the need for any further streets, and due to the river, it also only added a day or two to the total length of the rove, thus not becoming a cause for anger from the trading community.

At the northern gates of the capital, the old Crocus Rove would not be spared, but the troublesome cobbles dug out and the new cut stone laid in their stead all the way up to the North Creak river, where it would follow the water to its delta and the city of Dahlia itself.

The end of the line was no longer the harbour city, though, but a second harbour, the new Dahlia Port, east of Dahlia Head, just as Lord Lytton had hoped for.

It was a grand plan and many men shook their heads when rumours spread that this immense work was scheduled to be done within five years. It was unheard of that anyone could build that quickly, especially not something that required millions of hand chiselled stone slabs, but Levy was determined.

She had checked and double checked her numbers. It should be possible, with high moral among the workforce and luck on their side.

From three spots, they would start building. One team began in Akane, another began in Dahlia, and the last began in Crocus, going south for Zinla. While Dahlia and Crocus would be provided with stone form Mt. Hakobe, Akane got their stone from Bosco. This eased the pressure on the only real quarry of Fiore. The neighbouring nation had mountains to spare and gladly traded their rock for clean salt, good wine and simple gold.

Had this entire plan not been about paying Alden Holt back, Dahlia could have bought additional materials from the kingdom to ensure they wouldn't ever have to wait for transports, but as things were, no Seven stone was to be used in the construction of Crocus Rove. There was no telling what kind of sabotage could come from their ruthless neighbour if he found out they were paying him to help them win their bet.

Sabotage, however, came from a very different direction. Work ground to a halt when bandits began meddling in their affairs. The outlaws that used to ambush on, the newly renamed, Old Rove did not appreciate the notion of a new and safe trading route in the least. Many a transport was intercepted, the carts burned and the stones smashed in order to delay work on the rove.

The small guarding troops that had been issued to the stone transports were not enough to set a stop to these brutal and directed raids. Not only armed men, but also the cart drivers and stonemasons themselves were killed in cold blood as they headed for the construction sites. Some widows could even collect their husband's head from a stake.

But it was not only the transports that were endangered. Even the more fiercely protected building sites were targets. Anyone that dared stray from the camp could be found dead in the woods a few hours later. Workers were encouraged to stay close and never to walk alone.

The killings by Akane were especially gruesome, showing signs of torture and mutilation and the bandits around Dahlia didn't even set stop at the women that cooked and washed for the workers and soldiers, or the children they brought with them. No one that could be associated with the building work in any way or form was safe.

Grief and fear struck the workers and many left their positions, giving their work to the next, braver, or perhaps more foolish, man.

Laxus reinforced the guards at the sites and issued six separate troops of soldiers from his army to protect the stone caravans. Fuelled on by the dream of the finished rove, as well as the good pay, the workers did continue, but the larger, more heavily armed groups were slower and no intermediate carts dared make their way through the woods to provide any extra material to the building sites. This slowed the construction work immensely and thus caused the king and queen a lot of worry.

Rose proposed an offensive and the general Lahar was given command over a force of a thousand men to drive fear into the hearts of the bandits and set a stop to their sabotage and cruelty. The task was not an easy one as this was not one organisation, but many small and fractioned groups of bandits that operated in an unpredictable manner. The mere presence of the army at least drove back a part of the outlaws and many murderers met the deities every week.

The High Constable also sent out a few of her best men to Dahlia and Akane. General Doranbolt was her eyes and ears in the northern harbour and took command of the guards there to organise them and make sure the people were kept safe. Cobra in turn did the same in the southern ruins.

It had been ages since he set foot in the burned city. When he had been here with Jessalyn, the ground had still been covered in black and the air toxic with the miasma of old corpses, vermin and mould, but even now the devastation of the fire was well visible.

On the remaining stone ruins, an observant man could see cracks in the granite. The fire had burned hot enough in its centre to split the hardest of rock. The roads that were laid with gravel and sand had solidified under the inferno, creating a surface as hard as any mountain. Marks left in the street on that day were eternally persevered.

Only the old church still stood in most of its glory. The windows had shattered in the change of the seasons and the door had burned out of its hinges, the metal having run down onto the sill, but the main structure was intact.

Once, there had been blood splattered on the street just outside this building. This is where Lord Freeheart let his life alongside a former noble whose name had been lost in time, taken to the grave by the former leader of the Freeheart Army.

Now, plants had made their way up the façades and moss was hanging richly from the roof, but that only gave the empty gods' house new life. It seemed Libra had restored the balance of this tainted place.

Since many of the workers and helpers had brought along family into the growing village, Cobra made sure construction of new housing was progressing whenever they had to wait for new material from Bosco. Even those transports had fallen victim to the unrest. Further trade with the neighbouring nation was only enabled by the two strong troops that escorted the foreigners from and to the border.

Cobra had the sad duty to draw the location for a graveyard into the maps so that their dead may rest in peace. Deciding to place it near the overgrown church, he unintentionally caused its renovation. Those that tended the graves of their loved ones started cleaning the gods' out and even set new windows into the open arches on their own account.

Many seemed to share the swordsman's feeling that the plants were guests of Libra and the community agreed to let them grow freely along the stone walls.

Before long, a priest was sent from the Zentopian Church and Sunday prayers helped raise morale. Many that hadn't said a single prayer in their lifetime turned to the goddess of balance for guidance and something similar to a serene order settled in the community surrounded by death and threat.

Whenever Cobra detected a newcomer in town, he didn't hesitate to greet, and question them. No one that didn't have a reason to be here was permitted to stay, for the safety of all. In times of betrayal, one had to watch his back.

It was a day of stone delivery that he realised at least one woman had not been honest with him. The young lady was not working with the rest of the maidens to cook for the workers. She was instead walking around town, talking to people and no doubt collecting information. He ordered the guards to apprehend the suspicious liar.

The slender dark haired woman had noticed how meticulously the local guard captain kept track of even the commoners in this town, and was thus ready for an attack. She wasn't doing anything wrong, mind you, but she couldn't afford for any unwanted ears.

Once the guards headed for her, she turned to them with an innocent look of surprise. That was enough for them to ease their hold on their swords, exactly the opening she needed. With a quick flick of her wrist, she threw down a smoke bomb and fled the scene.

It seemed she wouldn't gain any further information here either way. The guard captain really did manage to keep troublemakers out of his camp. It was rather impressive for a simple minded swordsman. Perhaps his troubled past had taught him this. Whichever the case, she had to report back.

Pulling up the hood of her travelling robes, she headed out into the woods while the confused guards inspected the powder she had left behind, the tiny shreds of paper that now littered the street.

Reaching Crocus a few days later, she headed for the Northern Gate Inn where a certain guard master was already waiting for her report.

She usually didn't work for anyone other than her team leader, Kama. The scythes wielding Thanatos was one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen and without doubt the most elusive one, but the master of secrets could find even the grim reaper himself and had thus earned their respect. 

Taking a seat opposite the odd masked man, she saw a smile spread over his lips. “Got any news, Kamika?”

  


Bickslow headed for the meeting of The Table after what he had heard. Laxus needed to be made aware instantly.

Walking into the hall, he caused all heads to turn. No one usually dared disturb the gathering. With a calm expression, he walked over to the king's side and leaned in to his ear, whispering to the sovereign what his little birdies had told him.

“Siegrain, huh?”, Laxus said aloud and he nodded. Now that the king had made it clear the people in this room were allowed to know this much, he confirmed in normal volume, “Yes. Siegrain fled the country. He is in Seven.”

Whatever else had been discussed before was instantly forgotten at the mention of this name.

“Who?”, Darton wondered and Michello gave him the short version of the story, of how the former councillor Siegrain had betrayed them and caused the slaughter on Old Rove.

“Should we try and pursue him?”, Levy wondered and Rose shrugged, “Why would we?”

“If this man is as ruthless as you say, he might still be a threat and we do have an open line of communication with the king of Seven now”, Darton reasoned. “Perhaps he'll even take care of the problem for us.”

While the Archmage didn't care much for the absolute sovereignty of Fiore, Mirajane did not like the idea. “If they do give him to us or kill him, Holt will have another claim against us in return. We don't want to set ourselves in even more debt to him. We still have an unwanted wedding to stop.”

Darton gave a small chuckle. “What's the harm, Your Highness? What more can he do? Demand another daughter? That would be unreasonable for the capture of a criminal.”

“He could at the very least claim that repayment of our debt in gold is not enough to stop the wedding and threaten war if we refuse”, Levy said at once.

Rose had to agree. There was no way they could withstand their neighbours if the people of Seven united behind their king, because they believed him to be in the right. “The royalty of Seven is well anchored and most notably, the country is twice as big, having at least twice our force. Fiore is still unstable and our soldiers are either trained chaotically at home or are otherwise still very young and inexperienced. If Holt screws us over with this, we are done for”, she stated.

“Just because you can't trust in others doe...”, Freed began and she glared back at him. “Don't you dare finish that sentence, Guard!”, she barked. “We cannot ask them for even more and then blow off the wedding a few years before it would happen. There will be war, you...” She was about to take a verbal swing at him when the king interrupted their quarrel, slamming a hand down on the table with force. “Focus!”, he demanded loudly.

The tension between the two fighters had only gotten worse after Bickslow had trained with the redhead and it was annoying the shit out of him. “One more time and I swear you will both see consequences”, he warned and both gave an irritated exhale before nodding obediently.

Leaning back in his chair, the king sighed. “I have to agree with Rose and Levy. There would be trouble if we go to the king of Seven again. The man is an arrogant asshole that will use any excuse.”

Mirajane nodded in agreement. She knew there was a chance this wedding would proceed, especially with the state of progress on Crocus Rove, but she would not give up before she had to. That Darton didn't care was of no interest to her. He was a mage, not a mother nor a king.

“Let the traitor be. If he comes back, he is to be executed for treason against The Crown and Fiore itself”, Laxus ordered and Rose held a hand to her chest in a gesture of obedience. “Understood, My King.”

It was first in the evening that Bickslow proposed his own strategy. He could send out an assassin into the neighbouring country to try and get a hold of the man that caused them so much grief, that had in extension caused the death of the king's unborn child.

It would be a lie to say Laxus hadn't considered this option. He did crave revenge for what happened and there was surely no one that would oppose the traitor's death. However, it was also a great risk to take. If the assassin was found out and bad blood spread between him and the Holt family, there was no telling what would happen.

No, once again he had to put his people before himself. He would not risk harming them just to get his own dark desire for blood fulfilled. He was not going to add 'King of Assassins' to his list.

  



	11. Honour and Truth

Kinana hesitated for a moment before reaching for the door handle. She hadn't ever spoken with the chair before, but she had heard the bluenette was kind at heart and that her door was always open to anyone that needed her help. It felt just a little less intimidating to speak with the woman than going to the archmage.

Pushing the door to the royal library open, she glanced inside. The hall that met her was massive. It could match even the throne room. All four walls were covered from floor to roof in bookshelves, many of them too high up for any human to reach. Ladders stood here and there for those that wanted access to the literature on the upper shelves.

In the middle of the hall, desks were lined up, each packed with books and notes. While the tables weren't strictly speaking personal, every scholar had picked his favourite spot and never bothered removing his or her items from it. Any apprentices had to work around the clutter, often forced to move when the mage or scholar that had claimed the space returned.

Some sat in the wide windowsills or gathered on the carpets covering the stone floor. A fair amount of them also simply moved elsewhere with their chosen literature. On sunny days, you could see them sitting in the gardens and on balconies, holding onto paper that fluttered in the wind.

It was the same around any library of Crocus. It was sheer impossible to find a free bench anywhere near the Central Library of Crocus if the weather allowed books to be handled outside without damaging them.

Rainy days were the trouble. It was those days that the well-read stayed at home to focus on their work within their own four walls and the students sat so tightly packed around each desk that any note taking had to be done on ones own lap. But they never complained.

Kinana figured it was much like the hardship trainees of the army went through, fighting even in pouring rain and in cold winter winds. It was part of the test. If you didn't endure, you evidently didn't want it badly enough and ought to turn to other professions that didn't require as much work and dedication.

Sometimes, it irked her that sewing was seen as being so much easier. She had worked hard and long on perfecting her craft. The ability to see and feel imperfections in the cloth, to set the right stitching for every material and situation, make sure the finished product would not only look flawless but also stand the test of time, it didn't come easy.

Walking across the library, she got a few looks. Most were too focused to take notice, but those that did could tell she didn't belong here. The finely ornamented dress was typical for a woman of her craft. It wasn't made of the same expensive materials as the robes of a noble, but it was also far too well made and pretty for the daily wear of a commoner.

Heading over to the door of the chair's private study, she knocked and waited. A moment later, the bluenette's champion opened for her.

“Yes?”

His hard red eyes were intimidating. Kinana didn't quite understand how Levy could feel safe around this fierce fighter, especially considering that he was a former phantom. It was only the chair's trust for this man that validated his word and honour to everyone else. Hadn't it been for her, he would definitely not have had a place in the castle, no matter how he had redeemed himself.

“I wish to speak with the chair”, the purple haired woman requested and Gajeel looked over his shoulder questioningly.

Levy nodded, putting the book she had in hand aside on the table and looking up attentively. On that cue, Gajeel stepped aside and Kinana walked into the small chamber.

In here, the strong scent of paper and leather was mixed with a smell of fresh ink. The tomes sitting in these shelves were slimmer than those in the rest of the library and there was something odd about a lot of them. It was as though they reached out for her, either coaxing her to read them or warning her not to. Hadn't the chair been sitting right there, calm as one can be, she would have found it very unsettling. The only explanation she could think of was that there had to be magic living in these tomes.

“I hope I am not disturbing”, she began and Levy smiled. “Not at all. Have a seat”, she offered and Kinana took a seat on the opposite end of the heavy oak table. In the very middle of the wide desk, there was a two books wide opening between the stacks of paper that allowed the bluenette a clear view of whomever was on the other side. While not being much, it did feel just a tad more welcoming.

“You are a seamstress from Magnolia Town if I'm not mistaken. What can I do for you?”, the chair wondered. Kinana she was surprised the royal had heard of her before. It had to be because of Cobra. The two of them did converse from time to time when they ran into another around the castle.

The maroon haired man had told Kinana about the village the bluenette had been found in as child, of how the tiny being had impressed everyone with her astounding intellect and surprising range of knowledge. The chair also had rather incredible endurance for such a thin and weak girl, able to ride on her own day after day on a full grown mount.

Now that she sat in the wide scholar's robes, it seemed only logical she had such strength, such will to live and to thrive. There was a power to her that had nothing to do with muscle or blade. Kinana wished to have that same shine in her eyes.

“Could you teach me magic, My Lady?”, she asked and the bluenette frowned. “I wouldn't know how. As far as I understand, there is magic everywhere, but it only responds to certain humans for some reason. You have to feel it yourself”, she responded.

Disappointed, the seamstress nodded. “I see.” She had hoped to find her strength here, but it seemed the fabric of magic did not agree with her. Seeing the mages spend their time studying, she had thought it was something that could be learned.

Levy folded her hands together thoughtfully. She could ask Darton about this if it was so important to the woman, see if the archmage knew a way for a person to connect to magic despite a natural inability to do so, but she highly doubted it was possible without at least a grand sacrifice. If it had been, it ought to be common knowledge and widely used.

“Why would you want to learn magic? Being a mage is not always profitable. It makes you a valuable target. Also, it is quite dangerous in and of itself”, she questioned.

The seamstress met her eyes with honesty. “I know. It's just that Cobra is out there in Akane and I want to be with him”, she admitted. Levy didn't really see the problem. “Why don't you just go?”

Kinana shook her head. Of course, she could just go with the next patrol, but, “I don't want to be in the way. If I am to be out on the rove, I want to be of use.” There was no way she would accept being a liability. She had heard of the dangers that lurked around those ruins. Knowing that there were bandits and murderers only further strengthened her desire to be able to help, to be there for Cobra.

“You can help cook and repair clothes”, the chair suggested, but she shook her head again. “That is hardly an occupation that needs more volunteers.” If she was to sew and cook, she might as well stay here where her work with the local women had far more value. Since coming here, she had helped more than a dozen young souls reach new heights in the craft. For someone as good at embroidery as her to sew simple worker tunics was a complete waste.

Levy could understand her desire fully. Herself, she had hated how fragile and weak she was for several years until Gajeel started training her. “Why don't you try to learn a few tricks with a sword then?”, she suggested and surprise ghosted over the seamstress' face.

A small frown appeared on her forehead. “You mean, I should become a soldier?” Wasn't she too weak for something like that? A solider had to be well trained and big. She was the exact opposite. Her arms were sticks and her legs weren't much better.

“Why not? A good third of the royal army is female these days. I myself studied swordfighting for a while”, the chair nodded. “That surprises me”, Kinana admitted.

If the bluenette believed she could do it, she would trust in that judgement. Perhaps even someone like her could build a body powerful enough for combat. Levy wasn't much bigger than her and she apparently could wield a blade well enough to deem it worth mentioning.

“But who would teach me?”, she wondered. It wasn't like she could enrol in the royal army or even the city guard. Even as trainee, you had to display a certain degree of skill already. Most were taught at home, during their childhood. Had Cobra been here, she would have asked him.

The Chair smiled. She was glad to see the seamstress was willing to give it a try. The bravery to start something you knew you weren't built for was the first and arguably most important step. “Let me ask around. I'm sure I will find someone”, she encouraged.

“Thank you, My Lady”, Kinana smiled. She bowed her head before getting up. “And thank you for listening to my worries”, she added, but the scholar shook her head a little. “Thank you for your service to The Crown”, she said in a voice that made it clear she truly thought highly of the craft and the women that practised it.

She saw the value in each of the different professions that one could find in a country. All did they work together to create the future. If only each could see their own importance, feel the ripple their work left in the grand design.

Just a small band of cloth was sometimes enough to motivate a fighter to survive, to train harder and fight better and ultimately change the world. Or help a scholar tie her hair back and see what lay before her with clear eyes. A mantle hanging over the shoulders of a king could reinforce his status and legitimacy.

Everyone and everything mattered and effort put into perfecting a skill was never waisted.

Had not the painters and architects designed the castle, had not the stonemasons engraved the tombs, had not the blacksmiths learned to create intricate jewellery and crowns, had not the farmers produced enough to feed entire tows, and had not women and men cleaned the streets and lighted the lanterns every night, this city and this country wouldn't be the same.

Bowing again, Kinana left the study and heard the door close behind her.

That she had spoken with the chair apparently gained her even more attention than just being here. Glad to recognise at least someone here, she walked over to Wendy and the small girl smiled up at her happily. “Hello Kinana. What are you doing here?”, she wondered.

“I just came to speak with Lady Levy”, the seamstress explained. “What are you reading?”, she asked instead and the girl demonstratively closed her book to show her the cover. It didn't really tell her much. She could make use of sewing patterns and stitching instructions, but how letters and markings of ink could create words, she had no idea.

Figuring it was something medicine related, she just smiled. Wendy really was working so hard. It was inspiring. “I'll leave you to it”, she said softly before leaving the castle again.

She was looking forward to training, willing to put everything else aside if need be to become stronger and be able to head out on the rove. It might take time, a year or two even, but if she could meet up with Cobra before the construction work was done, it would be worth it.

 

Levy sent word to the barracks the very same day. She asked for a knight or swordsman of the army willing to offer an hour or two a day to train with a complete beginner. Guards had a lot of work as it was, but soldiers often had a decent amount of free time. A man could only train so many hours a day before the body gave in and the theoretical parts were only a days worth of studies each week.

These training sessions would not be paid, but the soldier that volunteered would be allowed to dine with the castle guards in Mercurius from there on out. Because the tables were set by the same men and women that prepared the food for the royal family and other nobles of the court, this included a few fine dishes that the barracks simply did not serve.

This part of the deal, however, was a secret. She wanted a soldier that would train Kinana for the sole benefit of helping her and not because of a reward.

She was aware that it might take time for the seamstress to be able to fight on her own, but if she was determined, she would pull through. From Levy's own experience, it was all about strength training and weapon choice.

Herself, she had a hard time with swordfighting in the beginning, but Gajeel had been patient with her and over the weeks and months, she learned and became strong enough to handle a shortsword without any real trouble.

Kinana looked to be even more delicate than her, not having worked on a farm, guided cows or ridden horses, but she believed in the seamstress. If she wanted it badly enough, she would be able to do it.

Looking over to her champion, the bluenette smiled. “Hey Gajeel, what about a sparring match later? It's been a while.”

At that, the guard perked up. “Oh? Don't you think you've grown too weak, lazying around with your books all day the way you do?”, he teased and the chair shot him a glare.

She stood and strode around the desk on light feet, avoiding a few books she had placed on the floor temporarily. Reaching his side, she placed a hand on his cheek. She stroked a strand of his hair back softly and asked with her sweetest voice, “What do you wager?”

It had really been a while since they played this game. She had won from time to time, for she was both quicker than him and could cheat a little with a wind gust here and a slippery surface there. No one had said she wasn't allowed to utilise her skills, so it counted.

The event also always attracted some audience. Not often did the soldiers have the chance to see a mage spar, especially not one as famous as her.

“Are you sure you want to make it a bet?”, Gajeel returned the question dangerously, leering down at her with a sharp toothed grin.

The bluenette just shrugged “As if you could win against a mage.” “Besides, I might just enjoy either outcome”, she added teasingly and a chuckle passed his lips. He loved this playful side of her.

He leaned down to kiss her, but the bluenette arched her head away. “Na-ah. First you'll have to win”, she teased, stepping out of his reach. He wasn't allowed to leave his spot by the door, not yet.

“Gihi. Expect as much Shrimp. And afterwards you're mine.”

Returning to her work, the chair smiled to herself, trying to ignore the similar expression on the knight's face.

While she had a chance against him, her odds would probably never be great. It was a game and she wanted to play. Besides, she did want to try out the stunning spell she had learned. It at least worked well on rats.

 

It was later that week that Bickslow saw a small gathering forming by the training range. Curious, he came closer as well and looked over the sandy court. He had expected a sparring match between a few of the stronger fighters or perhaps another test of strength, a competition of some sort.

Only a few days ago, Levy and Gajeel had drawn a large audience here when the scholar met her champion in a friendly match. She lost after only a few hits, but the magic she had used was very impressive. It was effective without being directly harmful. The knight had lost control over his body on several occasions during the match. It was something the men would keep in mind in the future, that much was clear.

But today that was not what the soldiers had gathered around to watch. This time it was the training session of a young slender woman.

The leather armour and barding protecting her were weighing her down so much she almost swayed and the shortsword in her hands was constantly trying to defy her grip and angle itself down toward the ground. The buckler she was supposed to use was lying at her feet.

Sadly, the disrespect these men showed while watching her struggle was nothing that surprised the shadow master. Many of the soldiers had been raised with daily hazing and mockery. It was supposed to strengthen the soul, shape their character and thicken their skin. In his experience, it merely created more bullies.

For him, it had taken years to find his kindness again. Excelling even in his childhood, he had stood undefeated well into his teenage years. His ability to read others and tell how they were feeling even past the best of poker faces enabled him to perfect his intimidation tactics and shake them until they were easy prey, especially for a skilled fighter like him.

When he met Laxus, he was completely overwhelmed. He had been tasked with stealing the gold of the Dreyar family out of the guard castle, but the blond man had caught him red handed. Confidently, Bickslow had drawn his daggers. Collateral damage was nothing new to him. If the young knight insisted, he would leave a puddle of blood behind.

It wasn't even a fight. The muscular man didn't listen to a word he said, didn't care how menacing he came across, and pummelled him to the ground. Meeting knights was usually easy, because they were slow in their heavy armour. But not Laxus. He wore the 50 pounds of metal as though it were mere cloth, and his reflexes were excellent.

That was the moment Bickslow lost his honour and worth in the eyes of his clan, and the moment he gained something far more valuable. He learned to be humble beneath his confident shell, to never underestimate an enemy and to recognise that everyone had weaknesses, that you should never allow yourself to stop learning.

He also gained a friend for life and a family with more love to spare than he had ever been offered before. He found his liege. It was the blond man he wanted to follow, the fiercest and kindest man he had ever met, the one that would never hesitate to protect his friends and family, the one that had accepted him and taken him in even after he had fallen off his high horse.

The young woman in the court groaned with the effort to take a swing at one of the wooden training dummies. He expected the worst, instinctively checking that she had adequate footwear in case she lost her grip. The high metal boots ought to be enough.

She was truly petite, not as short as Levy or Wendy, but thin and sleek, like she had never needed to lift a thing in her lifetime. He doubted she would even be able to direct a stubborn horse. She had probably never tried.

The training blade was far from sharp, but the way it clinked against the wooden surface and slid down was nowhere near the expected result.

The men standing by the fence laughed heartedly and Bickslow could see the woman tense.

The soldier that was training her walked over to her side, trying to give her some sort of support in contrast to the amused onlookers. Bickslow had to focus and think for a moment to remember who that was. Darker skin and a spiky beard… Azuma was the name if he remembered correctly. He was no one in particular, just a soldier like any other. He was strong, though, and apparently nice.

The woman gripped the hilt of the shortsword even harder, her knuckles going white. Even with the tiny blade in both hands and unable to do a thing, she was not going to give up. She raised the weapon again with a shout to reinforce her effort, but it merely took a few splinters off the side of the wooden pillar.

The men found new air to laugh, a few almost doubling over. And that's where the real mockery began. The men joked and gossiped, not giving a dam that she was in hearing distance.

“Haha. Really? What is she trying to do?”

“That's Cobra's girl, isn't it?”, a curious man asked in a leering voice.

“Yea. She's cute, isn't she? Adorable, trying so hard.”

“What's her name? Kina, was it?”

“Kinana.”

The name rang a bell for the shadow master. Kinana was the seamstress that had grown up in the Fairy Tail castle. He hadn't even met her before since she had spent most her time with the artist Reedus and the carpenter Laki, people he didn't really have any further connection to.

He had seen her work often enough, though. The skilful stitchings showed she had nimble hands. Indeed, she was agile, but not strong.

“I didn't know she fights”, one of the men laughed.

“She doesn't!”

“Not yet at least”, one of the men gave her at least the benefit of the doubt, but it only added him to the list of targets.

“Haha. Yet? Look at her. She can't even stand.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Bickslow was about done with this testosterone overload. The poor woman was near tears where she stood, trying her best but having her meek results mocked and ridiculed.

Azuma came to her side again, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It will take time, but we can do it. I'll help you get stronger”, he tried, but she seemed very upset now.

Bickslow let a wide smirk form on his lips and leaned onto the fencing cockily.

“You're worse than me with that thing”, he called and the woman turned around in surprise. She recognised the rogue's voice at once. It confused her a little to hear something like that from him.

“And that was not a compliment”, Bickslow added mockingly. The now clear insult told her that he didn't mean any harm at all, not someone from Fairy Tail. They would tease, snarl and push, even start brawls and fistfights, but never truly harm another, not even vocally.

The soldier at her side just looked back at the shadow master curiously. He had never seen the higher ranking man this close up before. How the man knew Kinana was not the question. The sneaky rogue seemed to know everyone, perhaps even him. What was more interesting, was why the man was interested in the woman's efforts. Surely the shadow master wouldn't join in on the mockery of these soldiers. The man was scary, but as far as he knew not unkind.

“Hey! Which ones of you would dare meet her in battle?”, Bickslow asked the men standing with him and laughter roared among them. Every single one volunteered with more or less vulgar comments.

“Well then! I call for a little competition. In one month, a battle between the fighting seamstress and the loud mouthed solders. Anyone that doesn't show is a worthless coward”, the rogue determined cheerfully.

Kinana's eyes went wide. She couldn't believe Bickslow would throw her to the wolves like that!

She watched the shadow master hop over the fencing and pull a dagger from under his robe. Turning it over in his hand, he held it out toward the seamstress.

It was a light and well balanced knife. There were many types of knifes and daggers in this world, but this kind was the rogue's favourite. Not many could use it, but those that could would always have an advantage, for it had a ring attached to its hilt. The one finger thick opening allowed for many techniques that a simpler dagger just could not be utilised for.

This particular knife was especially well made. It had been forged out of a single piece of metal, blade, hilt, and ring. No weak points where it could give were present, no hilt cover there that could grow uneven and uncomfortable to the touch.

The woman blinked at the blade and then at his visor. He was offering his dagger to her, a symbol of his power and skill. He couldn't possibly be serious, she thought.

“Take it and I will train you. You'll kick their asses”, Bickslow confirmed his intentions. She shook her head, about to complain, say that she couldn't possibly do it, but the rogue encouraged her further, “You are going to make for a brilliant rogue, trust me.”

“Me?”, she asked astounded. Why would he think that? She could see the sense in using even lighter blades if she was to fight with her slender statue, but daggers and cloth required an incredible amount of agility. She knew that much.

The masked man nodded confidently, “If you are willing to learn, you will be.”

Kinana smiled brightly. If he truly thought she could, then she would trust his judgement. Levy had taken her one step along the road and he would guide her along the next. “Yes, of course. I will train hard. Thank you.”, she stated boldly, dropping her sword to accept the small blade.

Drawing the other dagger, Bickslow held it up to show her the correct handling and she mimicked him. Just as he had expected, she was an expert with her hands. It is what she had done for years, looking, analysing, can copying hand movements to perfection until she was ready to add her own twist to it.

All she needed was a movement pattern that was physically viable for her, something quick and precise rather than strong and sturdy. “Meet me this evening in front of the castle”, he said and the woman nodded.

She held the blade out for him to retrieve, but to her surprise, he didn't take it. Instead, he untied the sheath and its twin from under his robes and handed all of it over to her.

The sheaths were made of firm leather and finely ornamented with stitching and imprints. The locket had been made in metal, which was somewhat unusual for weapons this small. On it, the Fairy Tail symbol was etched.

“These will be your blades, Honour and Truth. Treat them well and never part side with them for even a second”, Bickslow ordered his new trainee.

To give an apprentice your tools was ancient tradition. Your master's equipment was always trusty, had stood the test of time already.

Honour and Truth had been given to Bickslow many years ago when he joined Fairy Tail. Since, he had made sure to work their blades down to an even slimmer form and sharpen them further, but he still used them.

While fine blades, they were not his most precocious pair. They were the mocking image of Silence and Lie, the pair that he himself had been given by his master at the age of six. He rarely drew them as they were decorated with his clan's symbol.

To loose the two more modern blades was no greater loss. He could get himself a new pair at the blacksmith this same evening. Now he just had to come up with two new names that would fit the situation. Perhaps Needle and Kindness, to honour the woman that now held his daggers.

Turning to Azuma, the guard master made sure the man knew his effort, while harshly misdirected, was appreciated. A soldier like him had learned to fight in one way and one way only. It was natural that he would teach a beginner in the exactly same manner, but it was not fitting for the seamstress.

Turning around, he left the training range again.

The soldiers at the fence had quieted now, gaping at him wordlessly. They could not believe he truly considered training the woman, or that he believed she would be strong enough to fight them, who had practice their entire lives, after just one moon's time. He put his own reputation at stake, making such bold claims.

“Heh. It should be fun to win against the shadow master's trainee”, one man finally broke the silence and gained a hooting approval from the rest.

Bickslow smirked as he turned the corner. These men would be especially fun to take down a notch.

He not just believed, he knew that Kinana could beat them. She was determined and nimble and they were stupid and slow, and perhaps most importantly, they underestimated her, a grave mistake as they would soon learn.

 


	12. Cubellios

 

Once the sun descended, Kinana stood waiting in front of the castle. She was nervous, feeling over the weapons the shadow master had gifted her. Their weight felt odd on her sides and she had gotten many a strange looks during the day. What was an innocent looking woman like her doing with such sharp weaponry?

She jerked in surprise as a cloth fell onto her. Pulling it off her head, she looked up to see Bickslow had arrived. He was perched on a windowsill not far from her. Such an odd person he was.

“Put that on. No one has to know you can defend yourself”, he stated and she inspected the black cloth. It was a wide, hooded mantle. It would hide away, not just her pretty dress, but her entire form, and with it also her weapons.

Pulling it on, she looked up again, but the rogue was gone. Turning around, she already expected him to stand beside her and wasn't surprised to suddenly face him. “Come on”, the man smirked and she followed him along to the stables, hopping up behind him on a strong steed.

Riding north, they stopped not far from the gates and Bickslow hitched the horse in front of an awfully uninviting inn. Just looking at it from the outside led her to the conclusion that it had to be a guild house. No one in their right mind would want to spend a night here unless they knew they belonged.

The inside was not much better. Tiny windows only allowed for a minimal amount of light to pass through and the candles that lit in the room were few. Hooded figures sat around the sparse tables, every single one of them looking at the two that entered.

The bar was old and massive. While it was clean, it looked to be at least a century old. And behind it stood a man matching its image. Deep wrinkles characterised his face and a bushy white beard grew around his mouth, a stark contrast to the almost bald head. He was tired looking, his statue thin from age and his eyes half lidded and dry. As if in a trance, he sharpened a kitchen knife.

Kinana hid behind the shadow master as they strode further into the wooden hall. It seemed all eyes were not on him, but her, the newcomer here.

Bickslow walked over to the bar and put a few coins down on the counter. The old man looked up at him with a stoic expression before reaching up and collecting the gold off the wooden countertop. “Who's the girl?”, he wondered casually.

“No one you need to know”, Bickslow merely responded before walking past the bar into the back.

Down a flight of creaking stairs, he led his trainee through a door and into a surprisingly big cellar room. There were no windows, but the rogue walked around the dark room with sure steps to find the first torch and light it. Four in total finally illuminated the room.

Cold grey stone walls, floor, and even ceiling gave the room an unpleasant atmosphere. Only a simple and thin, mono coloured rug on the ground gave some kind of contrast.

Bickslow turned to the seamstress and saw the insecurity in her eyes. He couldn't blame her. It looked not much different than a dungeon. “Here, we can train without prying eyes. No need to let anyone in on what a rogue can do, now is there? And this way we can avoid the ogling of those soldiers too”, he explained helpfully.

Kinana nodded at that and closed the door behind herself before walking over to him.

“What is your plan exactly?”, she wondered, gaining an amused look. “What do you mean plan? I will train you and then you'll go out there and show those idiots just how much they don't know about this world.”

The seamstress was a little discouraged by his bold claim. “How can I hope to defeat those soldiers? I'm not strong and I'm not big and I only have these”, she asked, motioning to the daggers hidden under her mantle.

“It's not about the size of a man's sword but about how he handles it”, Bickslow stated matter of factly.

He smirked widely, maniacally even, and took a step toward her. “It's not even about the size of the man himself”, he continued, taking another step, firm and aggressive.

Kinana shied back a little on instinct. She knew he meant no harm, but in this odd place, already feeling insecure, his determined advance left her nervous.

“Nor is it about the thickness of his armour or hight of his steed”, the man continued to ramble.

Even when Bickslow was so close she could feel his breath on her skin, he still didn't slow down, and she was sure he was about to walk right into her. Leaning back, she took a few steps backwards only to trip over the edge of the rug behind her and fall.

It turned out the rug was not half as soft as it looked.

Groaning, she rubbed a hand over her back and the rogue chuckled a little. “See? I didn't even touch you and yet you fell and hurt yourself. You were armed and not that much shorter than me.”

Frowning up at the shadow master, she was sure he must be insane. She could hardly rely on scaring the men to fall on their own. She was no maniac like him.

The man held out a hand and pulled her back on her feet. “Just trust me. And trust yourself a little. You're far smarter and quicker than any of them and that is why you will win in one month's time. They won't know what's happening to them.”

Taking a deep breath, Kinana nodded. Even if he claimed not to have any plan, he surely had a lot of tricks he believed she could master within the limited time she had been given.

Together, they spent many hours in the dark stone hall. Every evening they met in the Northern Gate Inn and headed downstairs to train. The other guild members didn't even seem to take notice of her any more. She was a regular now, even if she did not strictly speaking belong, didn't even know what that inn was exactly.

Bickslow kept her on her feet, pushing her to become quicker and more agile by the day. Balance and reflexes where all he focused on.

A fortnight after she had started out, Kinana could evade the rogue when he clumsily wielded a quarterstaff, but she doubted that would be enough to win against seasoned warriors.

When only one week remained, she was starting to grow uneasy. There wasn't much time left, and she still had no idea how she could possibly win. Just evading wasn't enough. One man, she might be able to tire out enough to have him simply give in, but not all of them.

It was now that Bickslow for the first time asked her to draw her daggers. Cuts joined her bruises, but she didn't give in. If it so left her bleeding, she would learn how to fight. She had more than one reason to now.

Bickslow was right. The men were arrogant and stupid. She could do a whole lot even with her tiny form. She was going to show them, and then she was going to join Cobra on the rove.

Their little tournament closed in with every hour that passed.

Sparring with her teacher on the last day, she made sure not to let him hit her a single time with the long wooden rod. He had little skill wielding it, but seeing as he was a well trained soldier, that still spelled pain. Ducking under the weapon, she closed in.

He expected her to make a clean strike for his throat, as he would have, but no, Kinana had something else in mind. With the broad stance he held now, she found her opening, just as he had taught her. Lifting a foot, she made to kick the back of his knee to cause him to fall, but he could see right through it.

Did she really believe she could pull that stunt on him of all people? He was a master rogue. She was playing way out of her liege. It almost annoyed him little that she seemed to think herself that close to his skill level after only a month. Too proud to take the hit, he swept around.

Kinana suddenly saw the ceiling. Blinking up at it, she realised she was on her back, and that her head hurt from the impact to the floor. Fairly used to the pain by now, she sighed and sat up.

So maybe Bickslow had overreacted just a tiny bit. He wasn't about to admit that he was too proud to be tripped by a rookie. “Don't get cocky. Know your limits”, he waved it off as some kind of life lesson and the seamstress nodded, making sure to remember it.

 

On the evening of the competition, Bickslow escorted his trainee to the range. Every last one of the soldiers they had challenged showed up. None would let himself be called coward. It was shameful to withdraw from a challenge, especially one posed by a superior like the shadow master.

A dozen men in heavy armour, shield and longsword in hand, opposed a young slender woman with but a black cloak hanging down limply from her shoulders. Around the range, many more had gathered to watch. The rumour of this event had travelled all the way to Zinla.

Bickslow leaned back against the fencing with a cocky smile on his lips. “Well then. The seamstress versus the soldiers of Fiore. Who will win I wonder?”, he mused confidently.

There was tension in the crowd. Some seemed to agree with the men standing within the training range, that his was ridiculous. Others however, seemed rather sceptical. They thought the Shadow Master was plotting something.

“Whoever dares, step forward”, Bickslow finally hissed sharply.

Several of the men felt urged by it, but one was especially quick with stepping out of the group and facing Kinana. Pulling his helmet on, he took a broad stance. Hitting the edge of his shield with the hilt of his weapon, he inaudibly mocked her, daring her to meet him.

Taking a deep breath, Kinana focused, making sure to even out her breathing. She had trained for an entire month. Her aching body didn't allow her to forget that. It would be fine. Internalising what Bickslow had taught her, she firmed her facial expression, opening her eyes wide and clenching her jaw. She was going to win!

Holding out a hand, she beckoned the soldier, taunting back. It was always easier to react than to attack. Drawing her hand back beneath the black cloth, she unsheathed her daggers.

The man approached quickly, but she waited motionlessly. Keeping her eyes on his face, she glared back at the man. Bickslow's advice was fresh in her mind. “Meet their eyes if you can. No one likes fierce eye contact and especially not a knight that usually hides behind his metal. Creep into their world. Invade.”

Seeing the man's brown eyes through the slits of his visor, she drew her lips into a smirk. “Act like you have already won, like it's just a game. You're toying with them. There isn't even anything to prove. You both know, deep down, who's gonna win.”

First when he was within reach, she took a step back to evade the first swing of his sword.

A longsword had more reach, but it also had a very substantial drawback compared to smaller blades. If you got too close, it couldn't be wielded properly any more.

With that in mind, she instantly lunged forward again, pushing his now outstretched arm up and lodging her dagger into the slit between the armour of his arm and his breastplate. “Aim for the joints, always from under, not over.”

The knight grunted in pain, drawing his arm back and bringing his shield forward to bash her, but Kinana was expecting as much already and quickly pulled back again. “Lots of small injuries where it really hurts. Never linger. Move on light feet and strike like a snake.”

Hooking one finger into the ring at the end of her dagger, she took a step to land on his left side and swung the weapon out to meet his helmet hard, sending a painfully loud ringing to his ears.

Disoriented, the knight swung for her again, but met only air where she had been standing a moment ago. Instead he felt another stinging pain, this time in his elbow, and his sword arm grew weak, causing him to drop the weapon.

Looking to pick it up, he came face to face with the tip of a dagger. It was right outside his visor, angled to perfectly fit between the bars and stab his eyes out if the seamstress straightened her wrist out.

Sighing, he raised his hand. He wasn't willing to see if she really could leave him blind. “Fine then. You win.”

Kinana drew her weapons back under her coat and smiled over both ears. She looked to Bickslow overjoyed and he just gave a small nod. He hadn't doubted the outcome for a second.

He didn't interfere in the rest of the matches either, watching the seamstress beat one soldier after the other with various moves she had learned from him over the past four weeks.

The weapon was perfect for her. The way she could slink away from her opponents only to come back in with a neatly directed strike was impeccable. Her hand movement was flawless. It had taken him far longer to learn this much when he was little, but then again, he hadn't started out as a brilliant seamstress, but as a child.

Kinana really had the viper's touch to her movement.

How fitting for her story. The little girl that lost her memory to the bite of a snake, a venomous cubellios, now wielding daggers as though a serpent herself.

Tired and hurting all over, but victorious, the seamstress left behind a dozen shamed men and many more impressed. This was their lesson for the month. Never underestimate your opponent, no matter how small or fragile they might look.

Bickslow led her back to the Northern Gate Inn, keeping an eye on her during the ride so she didn't fall off in exhaustion.

Far more people than she had ever seen present here before were sitting around the tables, and for once the bartender seemed animated and young of heart. He smiled as they entered. “Congratulations Girl. Good work out there”, he praised with more vigour than she through his voice could possibly hold.

Even through her face hurt from getting a shield smacked across her entire upper body, she smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

The elder ducked beneath the counter for a moment and then tossed her something. Catching the item, Kinana inspected it curiously. It was a piece of black cloth, a very subtle emblem stitched into it. It was the symbol of the Shadow Guard.

Astounded, she looked to her trainer and the rogue grinned back innocently. “Welcome to the guard, Cubellios.”

“Cubellios?”, she wondered and he nodded. “That's the type of snake that attacked you when you were little, right? Memory loss and high fever, it has to be.”

“I don't know I was just a child”, she shrugged and the shadow master clapped her on the shoulder. “Either way, it fits you.”

Motioning to the black cloth, he added, “Wear it with pride, but wear it discretely.”

Tying it around her wrist, she hid it under her clothes. For the first time, she felt like she belonged here. She had earned her place now, by winning against a couple of overconfident soldiers after only one month of intense training.

It would take a little more time before she was confident enough to ride out for Akane, but with these guards on her side, she would surely learn quick enough.

She was ready to trade the needle for the blade at least for the time being.

 

 


	13. Assassin!

Levy was in high spirits as winter drew into the land. Soon, an ever so thin layer of snow covered the rooftops of the capital. It was a beautiful sight. The white crystals, glistening in the sun were able to compete even with the golden tips of Mercurius.

The valley between the mountains of Lucilia and Crocus Rise gave the city protection from all kinds of weather, allowing only for a few flakes to fall even in the coldest of nights. It wasn't comparable to the thick snow mantle that put most of the land to sleep for several months. It was a blessing for the traders that passed through the capital, able to make a longer stop in the mild weather.

Sitting in her study, the Chair enjoyed the sight of the sparsely falling snow outside the window. Winter always came with a certain inherit calm. Everyone moved slower, slept longer, cuddled together more closely. No one spent their days running around the streets unless they had to and even the criminals seemed to find it bothersome to work in the cold. Only the children played outside with great enthusiasm.

On such a tranquil day, the fact that The Table's meeting had been postponed didn't bother anyone particularly. The king should sleep a little more, especially now that most of the eager audiences that came with a shift in power were over with and mundane life at the castle truly began. Perhaps in this calm, there would be the joy of new life among them as well. Michello certainly hoped so.

  


Before the doors to the king’s quarters, Bickslow stood posted. Kinana had decided to take her role in the shadow guard seriously as well and was at his side, vigilant as any other. She had come a long way in the past months and was planning to leave the capital as soon as Winter's Wait was over in Akane and the roads were passable once more.

If there was something to miss about the area near the East Cut River, it was the way they celebrated the cold months. Gathering around hearths in inns and town halls, everyone would feast and drink together, sing and jest to entertain. This ancient tradition was what most eastern folk missed most dearly when they left home. For them, winter was not just the time of calm, but also the time of reflection, and that of homesickness.

A light sound forced the seamstress out of her thoughts. Looking along the stone corridor, she frowned deeply. “Did you hear that?”

Bickslow had already moved his hands under his robe, ready for a fight. The footstep was out of place. Had a guard or servant been walking along, there would have been a steady calm sound of walking, not one misplaced step. Someone was actively trying to sneak around. Here, near their posting, that was not a good sign.

He heard another step and pulled the purple haired woman behind himself. While she could defend herself, he was still the more skilled fighter out of the two of them. Trying to get a grip on the situation, he glared toward the source of the sound.

How could someone have managed to get into the castle unnoticed? What did that say about their skill level? It had to be a rogue or mage at the very least. Was this person an enemy? Probably. Why else sneak?

It was sudden. A black figure ran toward him and he drew his daggers, meeting similar blades that emerged from the blur in front of him.

“Assassin!”

Bickslow called with all vocal strength he could muster and instantly the familiar sound of armoured feet running on stone floors echoed through the hallways.

Kinana jabbed at their assailant from the side, but the dark figure was quicker, disarming her and ramming one small blade into her body. The woman fell to the ground in a grunt of pain.

Bickslow lunged forward. Whoever it was he had before himself, he was going to kill. No one hurt his trainee, aimed for their king, and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps he would keep the attacker alive and make sure to get some information first, but if he had any say in it, this person would not outlive the day.

Kinana gasped for air as she met the cold stone floor. Pressing one hand down over the wound, she tried to shift away from the fight, but she didn't get far without rolling over and turning her back on the enemy, something she knew she couldn't allow herself to do.

Whoever it was they were meeting was incredibly skilled. Even the shadow master himself had to give ground.

Reaching for her belt, the seamstress got a hold of her throwing needles. It was an ironic weapon for her, but she was good with them. Even her trainer couldn't matcher her in accuracy with them. A good eye and steady hand were essential.

Throwing the thick needles, she gave the assailant something to evade and thus Bickslow an opening. She couldn’t see it, but the hiss coming from under the black hood told her that at least one of her weapons had hit its mark.

The blood loss made it impossible to concentrate fully. Her vision blurred and her throat constricted. An immense tiredness coaxed her to sleep but she tried with all her might to keep her eyes open.

Bickslow was furious and worried, but also proud. To think his trainee had the sense and strength to help him out even in her current state. Using the opening he had been given, he grabbed a hold of the wide robe opposing him. Holding it closed around the attacker's throat so there wasn't a chance to wiggle out of it, and stabbed the figure cleanly in the stomach.

Suddenly overcome by panic, the assailant tried to grapple him. A hand came up to his throat, but found no grip. It flailed upward, knocking his visor off his face. The metal piece fell to the ground in a loud scramble and a pair dark red eyes glared back at the hooded character.

The thrashing stopped immediately when their attacker was met with a horrifying sight. A ring of glowing green surrounded the devilish irises, a dark magic no human should ever toy with. Between them, the mark of a pitch black figure emerged, raising its arms over the unholy pair of eyes. It reached out for him, coaxing his very soul to obey, to surrender. Completely stripped of all secrecy, the hooded character gave in, going limp in the Shadow Master’s grip.

Urging the hooded head up, Bickslow saw a man underneath it, fear and pain equally evident in his eyes.

It was a pity. He had wanted to keep the man alive, to get information about his reason for being here, who had sent him and why, but now this assassin had seen something he could not be allowed to.

Slitting the man's throat, he got it over with quickly and let the body fall to the floor.

Crouching down, he found his visor and pulled it back on as he turned his attention to the injured seamstress.

He tugged the mantle he had given her aside and pressed a hand down on her wound. It didn’t even gain him a hiss of pain. Kinana was lost in shock. Her eyes were wide and her breathing shallow. Whether it was from the pain and blood loss alone, or if she too had seen his face, he couldn’t say.

Before he could tell her to keep quiet about whatever she might think she saw just now, the castle guards arrived. They were quick. Since his call, not a minute had passed.

“Get her to a healer! Keep pressure on her wound so she doesn't bleed out!”, he ordered sternly.

Laxus and Mirajane had woken from the commotion by now. Dressed in but nightgown and with sword in hand, the king opened the door to his chambers. His orange eyes glanced over the scene, the dead rogue and the bleeding guard. “What happened?”

Bickslow straightened his back. “An assassin most likely”, he reported dutifully. “He was sneaking about and seemed determined to get past us.”

More people arrived in every passing second. Levy too had acted the instant she heard the call. Whoever had said it first, the message travelled from guard to guard in seconds, each echoing what they heard. “Assassin!”

She grabbed a hold of Wendy and Sherria, dragging them from their books and running them up toward the happening. If someone had infiltrated the castle, there was bound to be work for them.

Reaching the western top corridors, she had feared the worst, but Laxus stood uninjured, somewhat ruffled and bewildered, but without a single scratch. Before him, Bickslow was drenched in blood. On the ground however lay not just an unknown corpse, but also the Shadow Master’s trainee. A few guards knelt around her, clumsily trying to help.

Sherria tensed as she saw the amount of blood covering the floor, but Wendy took her hand and instantly jumped to action. Her focus quickly drew the other healer into the happening as well and they worked in professional sync to save the young woman's life.

Tiptoeing around the puddle of red, Levy came to the sovereign's side. He seemed agitated to say the least. Mirajane peeked out from within the chambers. The queen didn’t seem as worried about the entire situation as her husband. It wasn’t a stretch to assume something like this would happen sooner or later. There was a reason they had guards to being with.

Levy looked between the king and his royal guard, inaudibly asking the question. “Assassin, probably”, Bickslow repeated his assessment. “Yea, I heard. Good job, the both of you”, she nodded.

“Do you have any idea who that is?”, she wondered, motioning to the dead. Bickslow shook his head. “No. A man, but that’s all I have.”

He looked over the petite bluenette to see the two healers organising to move Kinana. “Excuse me”, he mumbled before stepping around her. He felt responsible for the seamstress. She was his trainee after all. He had coaxed her into learning the dagger’s dance and he had made her a shadow guard.

Following the small group down the stairs, he watched as the young woman was heaved onto a bed in the small healing chambers. Her entire face was still contorted in pain.

Sherria took a pair of scissors and cut the cloth around the wound open to gain better access. Wendy in turn shooed the men out of the room. She addressed Bickslow as well. “I won't be in the way”, he ensured, but the girl wouldn't have it. “No men”, she determined firmly.

He didn't like it, but he knew it wasn't prudent of him to stay. They would probably have to undress the woman sooner or later to treat her properly. Nodding a little, he took one more look at the seamstress. The cut Sherria was exposing looked bad, more than just a slim stab. The blade had obviously been wrung out in a different angle than it went in. Swallowing hard, he finally left.

When the door fell shut behind him, he leaned back against the wall with a tired sigh. It took minutes before he even realised how shocked he truly was, how hard his breathing was, how quick his heart pounded in his chest. All energy suddenly left him and he slid to the floor, sitting down in a dizzy spell. Never in his life had he felt this old before.

Years ago, he could kill in cold blood without blinking twice, could throw himself into the worst battle without the slightest hint of fear, but now he was afraid to loose a fight, was afraid of death. Before Fairy Tail, he could watch comrades die, could abandon them if it served the purpose of the clan, but now it hurt to see the seamstress bleed.

A warm hand found his shoulder and his head snapped up. Rose was crouched down before him. She looked like some kind of angel in her bright armour. A calm and caring expression was on her face and her eyes wandered over his body. “Aright there?”

Bickslow just nodded a little. The blood on him was plentiful, but not his own. It was that of the dead man, the man that had hurt Kinana.

Rose patted him down, feeling over his ribs to make sure none were broken, and then carefully turning his wrists. When the metal clad hand finally ran down his arm, he flinched. A stinging pain crept through the limb. “Didn't even notice you were injured, did you?”, the redhead asked and he shook his head again.

“Come on.”

Strong arms pulled him onto his feet and led him onward. Since the healing chambers were occupied, Rose led him into her own chambers. It was close by and there was space, water, and calm to be hand. Urging the rogue to sit down in a chair, she pulled his mantle off.

Bickslow reflexively brought a hand to his face, making sure the metal visor stayed in place. Enough damage had been done today. Once he sat topless, he made sure the straps on the back of his head were still sitting tightly and then let go again.

“That’s a different style”, Rose commented on his haircut teasingly, ruffling though the blue strands lightly. Usually he would have found a good response, but right now he was still too tired to bother with it. He just waited for her to ask about the visor, about why he never showed his face.

“This is gonna sting”, she merely stated calmly before bringing a soft rag to his arm. Washing the injury clean, she made sure not to press down too hard. She often miscalculated her strength and had learned to simply be extra careful instead.

Wringing the small rag out, she again felt like the man was looking at her, even if he didn’t turn his head. Keeping her eyes focused on the task at hand, she sighed lightly. “What?”

A familiar smile spread over the man’s lips. At least he seemed to find himself again now. She had worried when she found him sitting on the ground. “This reminds me of something”, he joked and she shot him a glare. He couldn’t be serious to bring that up right now. Then again, that was just like him, wasn’t it?

He chuckled a little. “I get it. You've got Dan”, he mused and the high constable shook her head. “I guess I should be glad you’re being an idiot again. Then it can’t have been too bad”, she responded harshly.

Bickslow did feel better now. The cut on his arm wasn’t much trouble and now that he was away from the hectic back and forth going on in the corridors, he had the calm to sort his thoughts again. Kinana had the best possible treatment and he too was cared for.

Looking at Rose again, he contemplated if he should dare to ask. She had made it clear she wasn’t interested and she had someone else now. Might as well. The worst that could happen would be that she might be unnecessarily brutal with her treatment. “Just tell me one thing. Why couldn't it have been us?”

The High Constable gave an exasperated sigh. She looked right back at him and snarled, “Simple. I don't like you.” Even without any of his tricks, her defensive response told him that she didn’t mean it. “I know that's a lie.”

Rose just shook her head at the statement. “How could you possibly know that?”, she waved it off, but he wasn’t about to back down now. “I can tell.”

A small growl left her. “I hate it when you do that”, she hissed, pressing down on his wound with obvious intent. He grunted in pain and then let out a giggle. This was just part of the reason he liked her. She was fierce and a little crazy, no matter how much she tried to act the differ. “Just tell me. What's the harm?”, he urged.

It seemed his nagging was finally getting rewarded. Rose let the rag go and avoided his eyes. She stared out the window with another deep sigh, one of resignation. “I didn't want to be with anyone that was willing to risk his life for another. I'm done with suicidal men”, she finally admitted.

It was hardly something Bickslow could argue with. That was her fear, her emotional pain. She had lost too many already, had her heart ripped out of her chest one too many times. It was nothing anyone could talk away. Only time could heal such wounds. At least he knew now and could give up on them entirely. “I see”, he said in acceptance.

No awkward silence fell between them, but that only because there was still a commotion in the castle. Everyone talked. What had happened? Where? To whom? Why? The chatter seemed endless.

Rose didn't let it bother her for now. There were more important things before her. She made sure the rogue's wound was entirely clean before getting up and picking her helmet off the table again. “I have to go speak with the king. Rest for a moment longer, but be gone before I come back.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

She stopped for a moment, surprised he finally addressed her correctly. So he had given up. That was good. That it stung just a little bit, she wouldn't ever admit, not even to herself if she could avoid it. Turning around, she walked out the door.

Faced with a group of gossiping guards, she scowled. They were completely emerged in the topic at hand. The seamstress Cubellios, a trainee of the Shadow Master, had been seriously injured today. Some even said that Bickslow himself had taken a blow. What kind of enemy where they up against for something like that to happen?

Clearing her throat, Rose got their attention and the men lined up dutifully, saluting to their high constable. “Easy to see how someone could manage to make their way to the very doorstep of our king!”, she roared. The flinch that went through the guards was easily visible.

“Well?! Get to your fucking posts!”, she ordered loudly and the men scrambled away quickly. “Hopeless, undisciplined fucking bunch of...”

Dan smiled at the scene. “Cut them some slack, Dear. Most of them have only heard tales about battle. Unlike yours, their souls are calm on a daily basis. And once a name has rung out, the fighter it belongs to seems immortal to most. Seeing a famous guard injured strikes fear into their hearts.”

The redhead sighed deeply. “I guess. You could be a priest instead of a paladin, you know that, right?” The man laughed at that. “Hardly. But I listen to the sermons. Fabrizio is a good teacher”, he told her.

For once taking on a serious tone of voice, he added, “I'll tell you about it later if you will listen, but for now, I'm just glad you're aright.”

Rose glanced around herself before leaning in to give him a small peck and then walking on past. While it was hardly a secret that they were seeing each other, she wasn't about to make public displays of affection a new habit.

As she had expected, a small gathering had already assembled in the throne room. The king and queen, Freed, Evergreen and Yukino at their sides, but also Levy and her champion and Michello where present. Only the archmage and priest had apparently not been close enough by to swiftly attend.

Laxus was pacing back and forth with anger written on his face. Clearly, he hadn't been ready for this kind of attack. Rose had to repress the urge to call him out as lamb again. It wasn't prudent any more these days. “My king?”, she said instead to make him aware of her presence.

She was the one that had oversight over his troops. It wouldn't surprise her if he lashed out at her for the late detection of this intruder. The blonde however merely glanced at her before continuing to draw circles. Seems he had far more calm even in this situation than Jessalyn had ever had, even on her best days.

“This wasn't an attack from Seven”, Levy stated, continuing the conversation that had occurred before the high constable's arrival.

“How can you be sure?”, Evergreen wondered sceptically. The man was a cruel and egotistical king. What was to say he wouldn't stab them in the back, given the opportunity?

“Holt made it clear he wants for Fiore and Seven to unite in wedlock with his son. Killing the king now would gain him nothing. Laxus has no daughter as of yet”, the bluenette explained.

“Maybe he is angry that Laxus refused him, started arguing and making demands. Payback, plain and simple”, Freed tried, but she shook her head. “No. He is cruel, but also very smart. He isn't the sentimental type and wouldn't put stones in his own path. If you argued he would sabotage the Rove, I'd see the sense in it, but not this.”

“Unless he has some incorrect information”, Mirajane said, too trying to make sense of the situation. “Well, that would be the responsibility of a certain someone that isn't here, wouldn't it?”, Michello asked pointedly.

“He is resting. He too was injured, in case you missed that”, Rose defended the rogue. “Is he unconscious? No? Then he should be here”, the historian hissed back at once and she pursed her lips together as not to start a fight. Laxus had made it clear she wasn't allowed to go bad-mouthing her colleagues again and while she didn't like the order, she had to obey her sovereign.

As if on cue, the very person they were discussing walked inside. He had managed to find a change of clothes in the meantime, but not taken the time to bathe. The metallic reek of blood was still on him, but he at least looked better.

“Speaking of the devil”, Michello snarled at once. “Where the hell where you?”

Bickslow frowned at the sudden verbal attack. “Me? I was right at the door. If you didn't notice, I killed the intruder”, he defended, but the historian was no where done. “And how did this intruder even get that close to our king? Is it not your job to know all sneaky business that goes on around here? You're supposed to be the master of lies, are you not? Or perhaps you did know.”

That was about enough for Rose. She demonstratively took a step forward. “I warn you once, Old Man, shut your mouth or taste my blade. Bickslow did his job. The assassin is dead and the king and queen are safe. You on the other hand can't do much but talk, now can you?”

Laxus finally stopped his pacing and rubbed a hand over his face. It was too damn early in the morning for the members of his court to start arguing again. He was going to develop a migraine. “Shut up. All of you.”

Silently, everyone turned their attention to him. “Are you sure this is not from Seven?”, he wondered and every single member of the table nodded.

“Then we are done here. You may leave.”

  


No one could see how the rogue's eyes had slimmed under his mask, but the sharp turn and hasty retreat told at least the observant eye about his irritation. A 'thank you' would have been nice, but instead he got discourtesy and even accusations.

Rose stopped him outside the door, setting a hand down on his shoulder and leaning in close to whisper so the historian couldn't hear her words. “Don't take it personally. It's a coping mechanism of that old bat, I'm sure”, she encouraged. “You did well”, she added before walking away as though nothing had happened.

“Thanks”, he murmured after the redhead. She was probably right. They were all just a little agitated right now and Michello had always had a stinging use of language. Figuring he wouldn't be allowed to see Kinana yet, he instead headed for his room. He ought to at least shower and get the stench of blood off himself.

  


On the way back to her study, Levy was mildly surprised to be intercepted by Sherria and asked to come see the injured guard. Kinana wanted to speak with her privately about something. It probably had to do with the attack that landed her in the care of their two young healers.

Leaving Gajeel to guard the door, she headed into the small chamber and walked over to the woman lying under crème sheets. She felt just a little guilty. She had encouraged the seamstress to start training for combat. Standing at the edge of the bed, she gave a soft little smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Aright. It hurts, but Wendy said I will be fine in a few days”, Kinana answered cheerfully. “In your position as scholar, there is something I need to ask you about, but...” She bit her lower lip as if unsure whether she ought to continue her trail of thought at all or if it would not be wiser to abandon it instead.

The Chair had given her very sound advice last time they spoke and the bluenette was the only person that Kinana could think of to ask, but she wasn't sure if she ought to at all. A queasy feeling spread in her stomach as she thought about it.

“Whatever it is, I swear not to use it against you”, Levy promised at once. It was clear that what the seamstress had to say was important to her, but also troublesome. Maybe she knew something about the assassin? Was she scared to speak it aloud?

The green eyes inspected the Chair's face closely before Kinana nodded a little. “It's not that I don't trust you, My Lady, it's just…” She thought hard. “I don't really know what it means and I don't want to… don't use it against, well, someone else”, she requested vaguely, but it was easy to guess whom she meant at this point.

The bluenette nodded seriously. “Not against you or against Bickslow. I swear to it.”

  


Gajeel had expected to get a little bit of calm now, standing by the door to the injured guard while his liege spoke with her, but mere five minutes later, the bluenette hurried out of the room again and he had rush after her. “Oy, Levy? What happened?”

The bluenette didn't answer, making a beeline back to the throne room. Stepping inside, she didn't even ask for a word. “Everyone out. Laxus, we have to talk. Now.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow at the chair. Never had she tried to take command and overrule him before. She didn't actually have the authority to. That was made clear by the simple fact that no one moved a muscle despite the clear order. Figuring that whatever had her agitated was important enough, he nodded to issue the order and the guards left the hall.

Turning to her champion, Levy added, “You too. Sorry.” Grumbling, the knight walked away. He hated it when his shrimp had secrets. Ever since they came to the capital that seemed to become more rule than exception. The worst part was, because he wasn't allowed to officially call her anything other than liege, he simply had to live with it.

“Do you need me to leave too?”, Mirajane asked. She didn't like being excluded, but she wasn't going to be stubborn if Levy insisted. If the bluenette had something at heart she didn't wish anyone else to hear, she would respect that. “Please, yes”, the scholar said and she nodded softly, leaving her husband's side.

Laxus leaned back on the throne. He was really curious now. What was so important? “Have you found out something about the assassin?”, he wondered. If she had, why was it such a secret? Should he be worried?

“No, but about your guard”, Levy answered seriously. She Walked up the stone steps until she stood right before him. Even sitting down, he still loomed over her, but she didn't let that impress her, glaring back at him as though he had offended her ancestors. “A Seith?!”, she finally hissed and Laxus tensed up.

Shit. She knew.

  



	14. A Haunting Past

Bickslow was less than pleased to find out Levy had heard about his mark, and even worse, fully understood what the magical ink under his skin meant.

Born into the clan, he was raised on blood and treachery. It was in no way his fault and the gods knew he tried his best to leave that part of his life behind. That, however, didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, or that the rest of the world was ready to accept him for what he was.

After hearing the details of their fight from Kinana, the bluenette understood the reason he had killed the intruder all too well. It was simple fear of detection. She was pissed. Had he left the assassin alive, they might have had a better idea what to do about the situation. Now, they were left with little to no leads. So it was up to him to try and make it right, to find out who that man was and why he had been after their sovereign.

He was just glad the chair didn't demand he be unmasked now that she knew. Surely her compassion had more to do with her secret lover the Dark Steel Phantom than it had with any sense of mercy for killers like him.

In order to find leads, he let his little spies check on everything and anything. Who entered and left the city on that day? Did anything odd happen? Did anyone bring in unusual goods? They questioned everyone that could or could not have any information on the subject.

It wasn't exactly helpful that the gossip had already spread through the flowering capital. Those that had something to hide would shut their mouths entirely and some that hoped for a reward claimed to have heard and seen things that were simply not possible.

Leaving the Northern Gate Inn without any new clues, he stalked back through the city. For once, he didn't know what his next step should be and it frustrated him. What good was a master of lies if he couldn't even keep track of the his own city's secrets?

Thinking back on the fight, he too realised that it had been foolish to strike the man down. He could have insisted on interrogating the man on his own and finished him off after that instead. Then he would know what to do right now at least.

A scream violently ripped him out of his thoughts. After what had happened, he was a bit skittish, like everyone else. Climbing the nearest building, he looked out over the district to find the source of the scared voices.

His eyes scanned the streets for anything out of the ordinary and soon spotted a few men and women backing away from a market with their hands held before themselves defensively.

Hurrying down to them, he found three armoured men standing with swords drawn, at their feet the lifeless body of a fourth, blood staining the paved street. His first instinct was to disarm them, but his eyes caught the emblem on their surcoats. Guards.

Before he even managed to say a word, a troop of city guards arrived at the scene, too showing the same progress from a reflex to grasp their weapons to realising whom they were facing and standing down.

Walking over to the two groups, Bickslow quickly caught everyone's attention. “What happened here?”, he demanded sternly, eyeing the three men and the pattern of bloodstains on their clothes. Sheeting their blades, they gave a slight bow. “Sorry to disturb the peace, but this man has been wanted for years. He was sentenced for the raid of Mid Bugbane in the fifth year of chaos”, one of them explained helpfully, motioning to the body by his feet.

Bickslow knew all too well what sentence he spoke of. It was a historic and tragic event, as so many had occurred in the past years.

The harbour city had experienced great loss at the hands of a surprisingly small number of bandits. Instead of going up against the numerous guards protecting the city, they had infiltrated the castle and taken the city lord as captive. Their demands were greedy, not satisfied with anything less than the entire treasury and all trade goods currently within the walls.

The lord refused for hours, claiming he would rather die than doom his city to suffer poverty. The men would die once they left his cold body stepped outside. That was when the bandits turned to his family. Both his daughters died on that day. No one had to ask to know they hadn't died without their clothes being torn apart and their bodies violated. It was how these things always seemed to go.

The verdict was clear. Anyone involved in the attack was to be executed for banditry, rape and murder.

Walking closer, the Shadow Master inspected the dead man only to realise he knew exactly who this was. His heart constricted. Not that this man meant much to him personally, but he meant a hell lot to someone that Bickslow in turn didn't want to see suffer.

“Dan!”

He made a face as he heard her voice. The two of them must have been out here together today, hoping for a relaxing stroll through the markets. Instead, it had ended with death yet again. Looking up, he saw Rose running toward the group. There was hurt in her eyes, and as she came closer to realise what had occurred, anger, rage even.

She drew her sword, eyes fixed on the three guards that had taken this life. Bickslow stood with a start. “Stop it! They are guards!”

It seemed his words were mere background noise to the redhead as she launched for the group. The three men were quick to match her, bringing their blades forth once more, and Bickslow feared a complete escalation.

Catching the High Constable before she could reach the group, he pried the sword from her luckily unarmoured hand. One leg sweeping her feet, he drew her to the ground, pinning her down with one arm twisted behind her back.

The redhead was completely out of her mind, trashing under him like a madman. The hunger for blood was evident on her. She wanted revenge, no matter at what cost. “Let me go! Dan! Dan! Let go! Dan!”

“They are from the Mid Bugbane Guard, Rose! You have to calm down!”, he tried again and she finally stilled, glaring at the men standing there with blood on their hands.

What the hell was he saying? Guards? Why would guards kill Dan? She first then made sense of the emblem on the crème cloth. The cohosh leaf ornament was that of the southern harbour city. “Why?!”, she demanded loudly.

One of the guards took a step forward, indicating his leadership, and spoke harshly, “We will answer to the king, not a kicking wife.”

“I will fucking...”, she began enraged, but Bickslow stood back up and turned to the men with a dark gloom. He lectured loudly and sharply, “Show some respect, Guard. Before you is the High Constable of The Crown.”

The man looked more than surprised. He would have expected the leader of the royal army to show a little more dignity. Deciding that it wouldn't help to state this thought to her right now, he simply insisted, “I will still speak to the king.”

Nodding, Bickslow helped the high constable up. She was still fuming, but at least in control of herself enough not to rush into battle right there and then. Laxus's name meant a lot, its mentioning alone enough to calm a fighter's soul until he had spoken his verdict.

Looking to the bewildered guards of Crocus that had gathered around the tumult, he ordered, “Bring this man to the church in a cart. Make sure not to disturb his body more than necessary.”

To the other group he simply said, “We will meet you there”, before dragging Rose away from the lifeless body of her beloved.

It was better if they took separate routes. He didn't want anyone to say the wrong thing and this situation to get worse than it already was.

Rose held his hand firmly as they walked, letting him lead her along as she herself wasn't capable of focusing enough to make sure she was heading the right way. An emptiness seemed to spread in her, and only anger managed to fill it. Not a single tear was in her eyes.

Reaching the castle, Bickslow had the woman take a seat on the sidelines in the throne room, placing himself between her and the guards that stood in the other end of the hall. He did his best to block her line of sight, but Rose glared as though he was nothing more than thin air before her.

Laxus was called for and arrived only minutes later with his wife, the Chair, and a couple of guards at his side.

His orange eyes flicked between the clearly shaken woman in casual clothes and the three blood stained men.

Bowing obediently, Bickslow reported, “Your Highness, these guards from Mid Bugbane claim to have executed a man sought for the raid of Mid Bugbane. The man they killed is Dan Straight, a paladin of Zentopia Church. His body is being moved to the church as we speak.”

“That monster was a paladin?”, one of the guards asked in a mixture of surprise and disgust. Bickslow put one firm hand on Rose's shoulder at once, communicating restraint. To the three men, he turned with a dark scowl of his own.

Laxus too seemed displeased with the language. He knew how badly hurt Rose was already. She had lost Curtis under cruel circumstances and from what he had heard, she had lost loved ones before that. Now again, someone that held her heart had died.

It was no wonder she craved to attack these men.

Taking a seat on the throne, Laxus got the full story, first from Bickslow, then from Rose, and finally from the guards. They had heard from some of the traders that one of the bandits from the raid fifteen years ago was supposed to have settled in Crocus and went looking. Sure enough, they found him walking the streets like any commoner. When confronted, he didn't resist. They even claimed he had knelt down to accept his fate.

“Liar!”, Rose protested at once, shooting up from her seat. Bickslow once more stepped before her, blocking her off from the three men. The redhead sat down again with clenched teeth, grumbling to herself.

“With all due respect, a military leader ought to have a little more restraint”, the Mid Bugbane guard commented. He had not expected the orange eyes of his sovereign to find him in a glare that spelled pain, a snarl passing the blond man's lips. “Are you insulting my court?”

Shaking his head, the guard ensured, “Of course not, Your Highness. I would never...” Laxus raised a hand to interrupt him. “You can leave now”, he dismissed them.

“Are you seriously going to let this stand?!”, Rose screamed in anger. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she thought it might explode at any second. It hurt, burned and throbbed. She held a hand over her chest in pain, the enraged expression on her face not wavering.

“Dan Straight does seem to be guilty of the crimes he was accused of”, Laxus tried, but she wouldn't hear it. “I don't give a shit if these fucks claim he knelt. They had no right to just take the Dan's life without as much as a trial.”

“Lord Draepip does have the authority to make that kind of decisions over his district. He spoke the verdict during a time where a crime like that was still given the death penalty”, Mirajane said softly, trying to reason with the other woman. Her eyes widened as the redhead spat back, “Fuck your districts! Dan wasn't the one that killed those girls.”

The king sighed. He understood her anger all too well, but laws were laws. “He was part of...”, he began only to be disrespectfully interrupted. “He turned to the church! He amended! Anyone with half a brain could see that!”

“Don't raise your voice before the king!”, Freed hissed, a hand finding the hilt of his sword. Bickslow met his gaze. 'Don't.'

The green haired man just glared back at him. They were friends, but he knew that the rogue had an eye on the high constable. She was quick-tempered, vile, and he didn't trust her. That she apparently knew the man had been a bandit and not bothered to report it only showed that he was right. Whatever the other man saw in her, he would never understand. It could be just looks, but he didn't really think Bickslow that shallow.

Levy's heart was heavy as she watched the entire ordeal play out. She leaned in to the king and recommended, “It would be good if as little as possible of this reached the ears of Lord Dreapip. Gossip about fights erupting inside castle is not a good thing. Send the guards away for now, but do speak with them later to ensure they don't misunderstand the situation.” Nodding, the blonde addressed the guards form Mid Bugbane again. “Wait outside. I will speak with you in a few moments.” The men bowed and left the throne room.

He got up and walked over to the redhead. He considered taking a seat beside her, but figured it would be easier to establish his authority if he remained standing. He wasn't about to discuss his verdict. The law was the law and that was the way he would have it, no matter what. No one was allowed to question it, to make their own assessment of what was acceptable or not.

“Before the last battle, you yourself told me not to crave revenge, to try and suppress it. Do you really want this back and forth of killing to continue?”, he tried.

Rose glared up at him. “Oh fuck off! You think you have the moral high ground, don't you? Who was it that basked in the death of the Phantom Lord? You did. I hurt him and it was satisfying, yes. But you, 'My King', were the one that slit his throat and watched his blood run down the steps before the very throne you now sit upon. You watched him bleed out like a pig with a gleam in your eyes. Don't fucking try to deny it. You have no right to go telling me anything about revenge!”

“Rose”, Levy exhaled in shock. She had never seen this kind of insanity in the red haired woman before. The high constable just stared back at the scholar with hard eyes, all the usual care in them gone. It was as though their bond was forgotten.

Laxus sighed. “If Jessalyn could see you...” The woman's attention snapped back to him. “Jessalyn is dead and it is your fault!”

Shocked at the outburst, the blonde stood silent, frowning down at the leader of his army. He watched the woman rise to her feet. She was shorter than him, but that didn't diminish her powerful stance. “Yea, that's right! You should have been there! You were the one she was trying to set onto the throne. All the deaths from then are on you! Jess, Erigor, Curtis, they died because of you!”

He couldn't bring out any words at the bold accusations. Was this how she felt for him? Was there only hatred?

Levy took a step forward. “Rose. Leave.” The redhead looked back at the tiny bluenette that was standing on the throne plateau, backed up by queen and guards. Taking a deep breath, the young woman clarified, “Walk back to your chambers right now. I'm serious. This is not a request, but an order from the chair.”

Taking another glare at the dumbfounded king, Rose turned around, stomping out of the hall.

Seeing the deep frown on the king's face, Levy walked over to him. “She doesn't know what she is talking about.”

The blond man shook his head ever so lightly. “No. She's right. I am responsible.”

His wife came to his side as well, protesting in her softest voice, “No you're not.”

The king nodded a little this time. “Yes. I am. I was supposed to lead but I left so much to Jessalyn that she even rode out toward Crocus without me. I was the target, not her, not Erigor. I decided to keep captives in Mai. I gave Curtis the order to execute them. I am the one to be held responsible.”

Freed wasn't half as soft about his complaint. “That's bullshit!”, he called. This was the man that saved him from himself in his moment of weakness. He was not going to see the blonde walk down the same path of self-loathing. “You brought peace to Fiore! That is your legacy, not the deaths caused by Phantom hands. Rose is hurt and looking for someone to blame, that is all.”

Mirajane stroked over her husband's back. Of course it hurt to be attacked like that, especially with so little warning, no time to put your armour on. Laxus had to rest and give the wound time to heal. “Honey, retreat for the day. I'll handle the guards”, she encouraged and the man nodded. He gave her a small kiss before walking away, only Freed and Evergreen allowed to follow.

Laxus didn't know about what the redhead had said quite yet. It would take some contemplating, but he did know there was one more thing he had to do before he could rest.

Heading for the High Constable's quarters, he knocked and entered. Rose stopped in her tracks. She had been pacing, but now she stood still, looking back at him. If she was capable of the emotion, he'd say she seemed unsure, maybe even scared. She had no idea what he would do now, how vindictive he could be. She'd never given him a reason to let her find out before.

Treading into the room entirely, Laxus held out a hand. “Rose, I have to ask for your sword.”

Her eyes widened. “You what?” One hand instinctively found the fine blade tied to her belt, not because she intended to draw it, but because she hadn't been without that familiar weight at her side ever since her big sister set her very first weapon into her hands.

“Lay down your sword and leave the castle. I understood that you reacted strongly to what happened, but I cannot have an unstable high constable. You are not currently fit to carry a weapon and even less so to lead anyone”, Laxus clarified.

Clenching her teeth, the woman wavered. She knew what he meant, but to think her outburst would cost her this dearly. Slowly, she untied the sword from her belt. Giving the beautifully decorated sheath one last look, she threw the weapon onto the table before rushing out.

Laxus took a deep breath and walked over to the table, picking the fine blade up. He knew he dishonoured her by demanding she leave herself unarmed, but it had to be done. This particular sword, she had gotten when she was appointed the position as high constable. It was of the highest quality and held great symbolic value, forged for her specifically.

Turning to his royal guards, he handed it to the green haired man. “You will have to take that role for now, Freed.”

The swordsman tentatively accepted the sword. It was too heavy for him to use, utilising far lighter and finer blades in battle than most, but it was a symbol of power. While he was pleased to see Rose leave, he hadn't intended to take her place. If Laxus needed him to lead, though, then he would. “I would be honoured”, he nodded.

Looking to the archer at his side, he began his leadership with a promotion, “Master of the Castle Guard sound good?” Smiling a little, the brunette nodded. She didn't like the circumstances, but she did like the position.

  


 


	15. Tears of the Dead

Bickslow didn't need to be ordered to follow Rose. When he heard that she had been cast out, he left the castle immediately, searching of the emotionally distraught woman. Whatever she decided to do now would determine whether she could ever return.

It was thus with sorrow he saw her head for a blacksmith. Perching on the rooftop, he waited, hoping he was wrong about this. He knew he ought to go in and stop her, but that tiny glimmer of hope still burned in his soul, pleading her not to do it.

Once the redhead walked back out, she held a newly forged blade in hand, making to tie it to her belt. While he knew she hadn't been without a sword for years, he also understood that this was not solely to feel protected. She was strong enough to fight with only her hands. No, he knew what she was planning.

Jumping down, he landed but a few feet from her, blocking the way. “Don't go”, he warned sternly and the woman's eyes hardened once more. She glared at him like there was no friendly emotion left between them. “Don't try to stop me”, she warned back with venom in her voice.

She gripped the hilt of the sword tightly, ready to draw it against him if need be. Tensing, Bickslow drew his hands under his cloak, feeling over his daggers. He really did not want to fight her, but he had already let her come too far. She had already defied the king's orders. “You know I can't let you leave, especially not with that”, he stated, nodding to the weapon in her hands.

“Then you should have brought more men”, the redhead growled, drawing the blade and letting the finely decorated scabbard fall to the ground. She was ready to meet him.

The Shadow Master hesitated for another moment. If they met in battle, it would most likely end with blood. Not only for his own health, he wanted to avoid that. “Rose, please. You are such a smart and warm-hearted woman. Don't do this.”

The redhead laughed at that. Smart had nothing to do with it. She was merely streetwise. Growing up the way she did, it was what had kept her alive all these years. And warm-hearted? What kind of delusions did this man have exactly? Was he really that foolish? “Just because you have a crush on me doesn't mean I won't cut you down. This won't be like training, I have my weapon of choice.”

“Last chance, walk away”, she barked, but Bickslow stood his ground. Laxus was still the one he obeyed. He would honour his king and not let her pass, even if it meant ending today in another tragedy. It seemed she had been right when rejecting him. He was willing to do anything for his liege, even kill his love or die trying.

Rose launched for him and he was surprised how quick the woman could be, avoiding the sharp blade with but a few centimetres distance. Drawing his daggers, he fought back, aiming for her arm. If only he could disarm her, he would be able to end this without causing another death.

Finding an opening to get past her, he rammed the tip of his dagger into the back of her right shoulder and the redhead grunted in pain. Despite that, Rose's hand did not unclench, the sword still in her grasp. Somehow, she managed to keep a hold of the weapon even now. Swinging around, she forced the rogue to distance himself again.

Bickslow was baffled. Never had he seen someone this unaffected by a disarming strike. Rose had to be in immense pain, forcing herself to keep going. Taking a two-handed grip of the hilt to help her injured arm, the woman attacked again.

The rogue sidestepped to evade her, but was surprised as she let go of the sword with her left, once more wielding it with only her injured arm. She grunted with the effort to steady and redirect the blade and he hissed as it met his arm, cutting deep enough to make contact with his bone.

Kicking his knee as she pushed his upper body back with the weapon, Rose caused him to fall backwards. Because of the injury hindering his movement, he didn't manage to catch himself and roll away. Seeing the blade soar down after him, he was certain it was over and flinched in fear.

Staring up at the red haired woman, he was shocked she had stopped. He could feel the tip of her sword against his throat, fearing it would puncture the skin if he as much as swallowed. His pulse was racing, blood running from his arm, but the pain had yet to kick in.

Having won, Rose took a deep breath. It would be wise to kill the man and make sure that word of her intentions would get back to the king slower. It would also insure that he wouldn't come after her personally, but Bickslow had done her a great service by training with her. Hadn't he done that, she would probably not have been able to read his movements and win today. And no matter how much she despised the fact, she did still like him.

Whatever loyal dogs had over her, it kept capturing her heart. Lifting the sword a little, she decided to let him live. “Now we're even. Greet the Lamb from me.”

She stomped on his arm, the limb giving a loud crack, and then kicked him in the stomach to knock the breath out of him, giving her more than enough time to pick her scabbard back up and find an unattended horse to steal and ride out on.

Bickslow winched as pain soared through his entire body, made even harder to handle by the fact that his breathing was disrupted. The world going dark before his eyes for a moment, he bit his teeth together. He could not loose consciousness now!

His vision blurry, he blinked around, one hand unconsciously feeling over his arm to assess the damage Rose had done. As far as he could tell, the limb wasn't broken at least, just cracked a little. It had surely been her intention to do worse.

Seeing a pair of boots appear close to his face, he frowned. Arching his neck, he looked up to see a man with thick leather apron kneeling down beside him. The blacksmith owning this establishment, he realised. “Are you okay?”, the man wondered and he sighed. “Just fine.”

Forcing himself up into a sitting position, he saw the man shy back again and blinked up once more. The young blond lad wasn't alone. Beside him, an equally youthful black haired man stood with a newly forged longsword in hand.

“Who are you and why did you fight with High Constable Freeheart?”, the blonde wondered with apprehension, trying to determine whether they really ought to let him get up.

Finding the faces familiar, Bickslow thought for a moment. There weren't many smiths this talented in Crocus. He went through the list in his head until he found the pair. These had to be the weaponsmith Sting Eucliffe and the farrier Rogue Cheney.

Seeing the black haired man come closer to cover his unarmed comrade’s back with the blade in his hand, the rogue made sure not to make any hasty movements. These two didn't just know how to create, but also how to handle weaponry, that much was clear. It was no great surprise. Knowing what made a good blade also incorporated being able to feel any imperfections when taking a swing.

“Bickslow, master of the Shadow Guard. Rose Freeheart no longer holds that position. Freed Justine is the High Constable of Fiore”, Bickslow answered respectfully before trying to pick himself up off the ground.

The two craftsmen exchanged a look of confusion before frowning back at him sceptically. It didn't seem they were quite sure they ought to believe him. To his great relief, a couple of guards arrived at the scene and recognised him instantly, giving him the authority he needed.

One of the guards tried to urge him into sitting back down, but he refused. There was no time to rest now. “I have to get to the castle”, he insisted and the blond weaponsmith offered, “I can give you a ride in our cart. I was about to head for the market so it's ready to go.”

Nodding, Bickslow walked over to the simple wooden wagon. He aimed to heave himself up, but his arm faltered and he stumbled back a little, hissing in irritation.

“Daddy. The bleeding man needs help”, he heard a young voice and looked back to the house.

In the doorway stood two little boys. One looked to be eight, messy red hair on his head and a pair of mischievous eyes gleaming with curiosity. The other was even younger still and dressed in an adorable hooded jumpsuit. This boy was the one that had spoken, the child obviously concerned about his well being.

Sting came around the cart and took a hold of the injured rogue, heaving him up with little effort before turning to the children. “Don't worry. He will be fine and I will be right back. Go on back inside, and Lector, take care of your little brother, okay?”

“Frosh ran to the door. It wasn't my fault”, the red haired boy protested with a pout. “It's fine. Just go back inside now”, the blond man insisted and the boys finally accepted it, closing the door to the house once more.

The farrier looked somewhat uneasy, eyeing the puddle of blood that Bickslow had left behind on the street, right before their home and workshop. Seeing the blonde looking to his partner with concern, Bickslow gave him a little nod.

This much time, there simply had to be.

The weaponsmith walked over to his comrade and put a hand on his shoulder. “I will be right back, Rogue, don't worry.” “What happened with her?”, the dark haired man wondered to himself and he shrugged a little. “We'll find out. For now, just rest.”

Giving a little smile, the farrier shook his head. “I'll clean this up. Its bad for business and I don't want Frosh and Lector to worry.” With that, he headed inside to find a mop.

Bickslow watched the blond man hop up on the cart beside him and set the horses into motion. He hurried them along the streets, heading straight for the castle in the city centre.

“Adorable kids. Where is their mother?”, he asked to make conversation.

“They don't have one. She abandoned them. Me and Rogue are their parents now, with or without orphanage plaque”, the blonde told him. The thought did seem to calm him a little, a tiny smile forming on his lips again. “They are good kids, just far too curious.” “I can tell”, Bickslow nodded.

He grunted a little as they hit a bump in the road and Sting looked at him with concern. “I'm fine. I've been through worse”, the rogue ensure him. “Sorry for bleeding on your doorstep”, he added jokingly and the blacksmith chuckled a little in turn.

They soon reached the castle gates and Bickslow scooted down from the cart, heading inside at once.

He walked into the throne room and was glad to find Laxus there, speaking with a trader from the north. He didn't wait for them to finish. This was too important. “Rose rode out. She is armed”, interrupted.

The king rose from his seat at once, walking down the stone steps to him. “What happened?”, he asked shocked, inspecting his friend and the blood drenched clothes.

“It's nothing”, Bickslow shook it off, but the blonde took a hold of his arm and he hissed in pain. “Payback for standing in her way. It's just a scratch”, he lied blatantly. He was not going to stand down and watch the others take care of this one. No way.

“How long ago did she ride out?”, Michello asked, too walking down from the throne plateau. Expecting nothing less than cold calm from the advisor, the Shadow Master reported, “Less than an hour, but we have to hurry. She's quick on her own, even if I managed to injure her.”

“Are you sure you are okay?”, Laxus asked again and Bickslow nodded. “I will be fine. Lets go”, he insisted, knowing very well that the blonde wouldn't delegate this task. Not even a messenger would be quicker in this weather, so sending a letter was futile. And most men weren't able to match Rose's skill in battle. Sending out a group of guards to run into the fierce woman's blade wouldn't do any good.

Turning to a few guards, the king ordered, “Tell the queen to take care of this matter. Get Freed and Evergreen, and prepare our horses.”

Using the time it took to prepare, Bickslow slipped away to bind his arm and change his clothes. He could ask the healers to take a look at it once he returned. It was his fault Rose had gotten away and he would be there to see her stopped, no matter what.

  


Levy again found herself with more work than could possibly be handled when the king with all four royal guards left the capital. He had taken along a full troop of knights to hunt down the woman that had practically adopted Levy after the slaughter in her home town of Aster.

It hurt to see all this happening, but it would be even worse if Rose succeeded with getting her revenge.

Mirajane did a great job in her husband's absence, letting no matter slip by just because of the inconvenience of the king missing from the castle. No concern was too small and she listened with care to each and every person that needed her attention.

Her nurturing way was truly inspiring. The court worked harder and with more harmony than ever while she had the lead. Levy too did her best, even though she found it hard to sleep these days. She was haunted by nightmares.

It was the same disturbing dream every night. They were on Old Rove. Levy was standing on the cobbles with bare feet, watching Jessalyn from afar. The dead woman was sitting at her own grave, naked and her body mutilated as the Phantoms had left it behind.

Every time, she sat there, holding a little underdeveloped child in her arms and weeping silently. Blood running from empty sockets instead of tears, she cried for her sister, for the insanity that now drove the redhead to betray the man that had fathered this dead child.

The first few nights, Levy had awoken with a scream of terror, her guards rushing in to find her sitting upright in her bed, sweat running down her temples, but as the dream became more familiar, she began walking toward the dead woman. For each try, she seemed able to get just a little closer before she awoke, and finally she stood right by the former leader's side.

Reaching out hesitantly, she felt over the woman's shoulder. Her skin was cold and lifeless, not even the slightest jerk or shift of muscle underneath it. Jessalyn turned her head slightly, looking back at her with empty sockets, silently inspecting the visitor.

Levy couldn't explain why, but the sight didn't scare her any longer. She felt like Jessalyn was there, right before her, like this was more than just a dream. It was so real, every touch and sight making sense even in the absence of sound.

The blood stopped running from where the woman's eyes ought to be and she slowly rose to her feet. Her mortal wound was well visible, a hole ripped into her throat. It didn't really seem to bother her any longer. She seemed to have grown used to it.

Looking down at her unborn and then at the tiny bluenette before her, she extended her arms, holding the child out toward the other.

Carefully, Levy accepted the tiny being that had never gotten to see the sun. It looked so odd, alien even. Its face was but a hinted shape and its limbs far too small, the fingers and toes just tiny blobs of meat. And it was lifeless. Had ever even a soul managed to settle in this petite body? Looking at it now, it didn't seem that way.

Levy woke with a deep frown on her forehead. She sat up and looked around her bedchamber in confusion. Why had Jessalyn handed over her child? What did it mean? Or was this perhaps just a dream like any other, no sense there to be found other than what her own lively imagination wanted her to believe?

Sure she would not be able to fall back asleep again, she got up and pulled a few sheets of paper from her desk drawer, sitting down to write a letter.

There was one man she knew had contact with a spirit. Makarov Dreyar was often warned by the long dead Mavis Vermilion if there was trouble ahead. The first guard master still watched over Fairy Tail from beyond the grave. It had spared them a battle they had been sure to loose when they first neared in on Mid Bugbane during the years of chaos.

Writing to the elder, Levy explained her concern. It would surely take a while for her message to reach him now that snow covered the bumpy roads, and even longer for her to get a reply, but it would have to do.

She needed to know what that dream meant. If it meant anything at all.

  


It was almost two weeks through ice and snow before Laxus and his guards finally caught up with the escaped woman.

His troop was fairly big while she was alone, making her much more agile. They were armoured while she wasn't, giving her an advantage in speed. She had a good couple of hours of head start and they didn't even know what exact route she would take. Everything was in Rose's favour, but finally they had found her, the brown horse she had stolen ploughing through the snow in the distance.

From her awkward seating in the saddle to judge, it was her injury that finally had given them the edge. She had probably been forced to rest somewhere, making it possible for them to catch up.

Evergreen hated injuring animals, but she knew they wouldn't be able to outride the redhead in these conditions. Aiming for the steed's hind leg, she let her arrow fly. The horse neighed, it's leg giving in and the red haired woman rolling out of her fall, away from the animal. As soon as she was out of range for the kicking hooves of the panicked animal, she stood back up, drawing her sword.

There was no sense in running. No human could match the speed of a war trained mount. Waiting, she watched the armoured riders circle her in. Of course, Bickslow was there as well. She shot him a glare. It was his fault she wasn't already at her destination. Her entire shoulder had become infected after his attack. His own injury didn't seem to bother him as much, even if it would land him in the care of healers for a couple of months to come.

Laxus reined his horse, halting the troop around her. “Rose Freeheart, drop your sword”, he ordered firmly, but there was no way she would let herself be taken without a fight. She knew what she had done and what the consequences were. “If you want to stop me you will have to kill me.”

Bickslow had feared this. “Rose. Please”, he implored, but the redhead was dead set on her objective. She was going to kill Lord Draepip and if it was the last thing she did. “He murdered Dan!”, she bellowed and Laxus finally lost his temper. “And Dan was part of a bloody raid. Many died that day! I thought you were past the an eye for an eye mentality. You are behaving like a child!”

He took a deep breath and requested one last time, “Don't commit treason.” Rose huffed a laugh at that. “I believe I already have, My King.”

She charged him, but Freed and Bickslow were quicker, jumping off their horses and tackling her to the ground. “Bastards! Let me fight fairly! Cowards!”, the woman roared in anger, struggling against their grip with zero regard for the arrow aimed at her head by Evergreen.

Laxus dismounted, drawing his sword, and she finally stilled, closing her eyes as she awaited her death. It was the standard penalty for her crime. No one went against the sovereign and lived to tell the tale.

“Let her go. I will show her that she can't best a king”, the blonde said and she frowned up at the man. Equally bewildered, his guards tried to argue him out of it. “Laxus, don't be foolish”, Bickslow began, but the blonde waved a hand to silence him. “I said, I will meet her”, he determined and the two guards reluctantly let go, letting the woman stand back up.

Laxus didn't worry about loosing here. Even if she had grown up with sword in hand, it wouldn't have mattered. She hadn't actually used one with intent for years. What made her a dangerous opponent was her utter disregard for her own body. He could match that any day, and right now she was tired from her fleeing ride, injured, angry, and disoriented.

Real battle was different than training, just as her and Jessalyn always kept reminding him. He wouldn't have dared to charge her if she had held an arbalest in hand,but out of the two of them, he was easily the better knight once the careful precision of training was forgotten. He would take her down and show her that her rage didn't do her any good.

“Come then and have your battle”, he challenged and Rose stormed toward him. It was clumsy and enraged, easy for him to parry and retributive. Knocking his shield into her face, he caused the unarmoured woman to fall to the ground, her nose broken once more.

He waited for her to get back up. Clearly, it would take more than this to teach her a lesson.

Even after minutes, with her blood splattered across the white ground, Rose still insisted on rising to her feet again. The uncomfortable silence surrounding her did nothing but anger her further. No one was allowed to feel sorry for her. She was going to fight until the last breath.

Sure the next strike would break bones, Laxus instead disarmed the redhead as she came close. That was when she drew a dagger from under her tunic and aimed for his face.

He head learned this from Jessalyn years ago. Just because Rose was trained with sword and crossbow didn't mean she couldn't utilise a dagger as well. The fight wasn't over just because you disarmed your opponent.

Catching the woman's arm, he stopped the attack before she could bring the dagger down. He still had to shy back a step to avoid the blade, though and both came tumbling down. One arm caught in a steel grip, Rose pulled a second knife and rammed into the opening between his grauntlet and couter. 

Grunting with the stinging pain, Laxus kicked upward, throwing her off himself and turning them around so he had the woman pinned to the ground. Pulling both daggers out of her hands, he tossed them aside, but even completely disarmed, she kept hitting and kicking like a madman. 

Slapping the woman across the face, he roared in anger, “Enough!”, and she finally stilled, glaring up at him through panting breaths. “Then kill me already”, she hissed and he shook his head. Getting up, Laxus sighed. “Its over. Won't you finally stop?”

He sheeted his sword and set his shield aside. “I hereby sentence you to the dungeons for the attempted murder of a city lord. 40 years, as you yourself set the standard.” He wouldn't call her a traitor. He couldn't do that. The punishment was too harsh. There was treason and there was real treason. This was not it. She didn't deserve to die for loosing her mind in sadness.

Realising what he was doing, Rose sat up a little, growling past bloody lips, “Don't you fucking pity me, Lamb.” The orange eyes found her once more in a harsh glare. Never before had she seen this kind of expression on his face before, intimidating even someone ready to die like her. “Believe me, I don't.”

Yes, she would be spared, but this sentence was no better than death for a woman like her. She would rot in the dungeons. Her determination to fight until the end went hand in hand with her need to be free. Being caged in was the worst possible punishment he could have given her.

Eyes wide, she screamed after him as he turned his back. “I am going to take everything away from you! You hear me, Dreyar?! Everything!” Gagged and bound, she was tossed over a horse back and the brown steed now lying limply on the ground was helped back up and given to nearby farmers to care for.

Bickslow helped his liege get the armour off his arm and inspected the wound Rose had caused. It was slim, but deep. Had it been angled just a little further to the right, the blonde would have lost all function in his hand and possibly have bleed out.

“I'll be fine. It's just a scratch”, Laxus said and he clenched his teeth. Nodding a little, he confirmed, “Luckily. Wendy will take care of it.” “As she will take care of your arm”, the king added pointedly. He knew that his friend had lied about the severity of his injury. The only reason he hadn't stopped the rogue from coming along was that he knew Bickslow would suffer emotionally if forced to stay away.

“Lets ride back. We have a prisoner to deposit!”, he called his order and the troop led their steeds from the patch of disturbed and red painted snow and toward the capital once more.

  


 


	16. Hell

Bickslow woke with a start. Sweat dampened his forehead and he sighed tiredly. Sitting up, he hissed at the light sneaking through the curtains. It was still quiet, the city outside only slowly starting to wake up.

Yet another nightmare had disturbed his rest.

Months had passed. Birds sang of spring in the gardens, but he was still stuck in the cold of winter. Every night, the same scene played before his inner eye.

He found himself on the ground, his mind slipping as he was bleeding out. It became harder and harder to breathe and the snow around him turned an unholy red. Above him, Rose, the woman he so foolhardy had put his trust in. In the dim light surrounding them, her blade caught every ray, gleaming brightly. Gripping the hilt tighter, she turned to their king with murderous intent. A thick drop of blood fell from the tip as she raised the sword.

That was the moment he woke, finding himself back in his own chambers.

Laxus still had a well visible scar by his elbow. Even after war, after siege and battle, he had been untouched by blades. He had seemed almost invulnerable up until the day he met the redhead amongst snow and ice.

Bickslow cursed himself. None of this would have happened if he had stopped Rose in Crocus, if he hadn't been so blinded, if he had done his duty and taken her down the moment she came out of the smithery instead of giving her the time to prepare for battle.

He hit the wall hard enough to cause his skin to break.

Mildly surprised that it had been heard out, he drew his hand under the covers as Dobengal opened the door and peeked inside. The brown eyes inspected him for a moment before the rogue slipped a finger under his face guard and respectfully tugged it down to speak. “Sir? Are you aright?”

“Perfect”, Bickslow waved it off, trying not to let is bitter undertone through too much. The guard bowed lightly and retreated again.

Standing outside the door, he could hear the shadow master get up, dress, and leave through the window, as he so often would to avoid the inconvenience of having to walk down the stairs.

Leaving his position, Dobengal headed for the opposite side of the castle.

It had been a great honour to be chosen to watch over the guard master while he rested, even if he doubted that his presence really did much to improve the other rogue's safety. Men like Bickslow didn't seem to ever truly sleep.

While he had the utmost respect for his guard master, he knew he couldn't keep quiet about this. Bickslow had seemed unfocused for a while now and with spring arriving, with the increased trade and greater amount of travellers it brought with it, they needed him to keep his concentration.

Besides, there had been several attempts on the kings life since the first assassin tried last year. None of them had managed to get even close to the castle thanks to the rogue's intelligence network. It was imperative that he stayed that well informed and quick.

It only took a moment to decide where to head. Stopping before the chair's private study, he knocked.

“Come on in.”

Levy was surprised as she saw the slender man step through the door. From the all black clothing and the face guard to judge, he was a rogue. She wondered what he did here. None of them reported to her, even if she did think she could make good use of such an asset. Setting her feather aside, she gave the man all her attention. “Shadow Guard, I presume. What can I do for you?”

The brown haired man eyed her guard for a moment. “May I have a private word, please?”

Gajeel grumbled at that and Levy shook her head. “Gajeel is my champion. This is as private as it gets”, she stated matter of factly. She didn't even know who this was. There was no way she would let herself be caught alone in a room with a stranger, especially not one that was easily able to overpower her physically.

Nodding lightly, the man thought for another few seconds and then spoke. “I worry about the Shadow Master.”

The bluenette motioned to the chair on the other side of her table and he took a seat. “I was guarding his quarters when I heard a sound within. I hurried to check and it seemed he had attacked the wall, injuring himself. He has been a little absent, mentally. I don't know what to do with this information. Had it been a comrade, I would tell the guard master, but this... So, I came to you.”

The Chair nodded and thanked him sincerely. “A good call. Thank you for the information. I will take care of it.”

Watching the rogue leave the room, she exchanged a look with her champion. Both of them knew how dangerous it could be if the man was not playing his part perfectly. “I should talk to him, right?”

Gajeel grumbled a little. “Yea. Though, he won't like it.”

Levy didn't want to worry the king if she didn't absolutely have to. He had enough on his mind in the lachrymose aftermath of recent events. There was Rose's imprisonment, forcing him to permanently give her position to another, but also the standstill of the construction of the rove. The drama at the castle had not exactly helped raise morale in the face of the deaths that haunted the workers.

The rove was all he cared about these days. He was betting his child on the project after all. Levy too was preoccupied with it. She felt responsible for the entire ordeal since it was her that had convinced him the gamble would be worth it. All the more reason for her not to bother him with the details of this little trouble.

Finding Bickslow was easier said than done, but after speaking with a few guards, Levy and Gajeel were headed for the training range where he supposedly had been spotted with Evergreen just recently. Sure enough, they found the rogue practising his throw.

Walking into the enclosure, the Chair interrupted, “Bickslow, I need a word.” His eyes leaving the round wooden target, he still threw the last dagger he had in hand as he asked, “What is it?” Evergreen too looked over at the approaching pair with curiosity, lowering her bow.

Levy figured these two were close enough friends that she didn't have to isolate the rogue before she got to the point. Stopping right before him, she wondered, “Are you okay?”

Bickslow frowned in bewilderment. “Sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

The bluenette was not in the mood to argue. She had to be sure that the Shadow Master was focused on his work. “Don't lie to me. I might not have your gift of simply 'being able to tell', but I am not stupid. Show me your hand.”

At that, the rogue tensed. He tried to get away without following the order, questioning it instead. “Why?”

Gajeel cleared his throat demonstratively. There was no guarantee who would actually win in a confrontation, but he was willing to find out if need be. “The Chair gave you an order”, he snarled and Bickslow sighed, holding the bandaged hand out. The bluenette unwrapped it to inspect the wound. The skin of his knuckles was partially scraped off. He had washed it and the blood had coagulated, but it still didn't look pretty.

“You should see Wendy.”

“It's just...”, the man began, but she cut him off. “A scratch. We've all heard that excuse a million times. I expect to hear from Wendy that this injury is just to the skin.” The rogue had been of little use for over a month after the last time he evaded the care of the young healer to ride out with Laxus. She wouldn't have it a second time.

It wasn't as though she did not understand why he did that, and she was pretty sure the king had been aware of the injury as well when he allowed Bickslow to come along, but she was not willing to take such risks.

Letting go of the man's hand, Levy tried to show that she understood, that her harsh words were merely pragmatic in nature. “I know you feel guilt, but this entire happening is not on you. You cannot let it influence your performance.”

The rogue gave a vague grumble and his friend insisted, “Bickslow, you have to know that it's true. None of this is your fault.”

Evergreen had sought for an opening like this, to talk to him about it, but it never felt like the right moment, like her words would be able to reach him. Even now, it didn't seem like they did. The rogue huffed. “Freed didn't trust her. I did. Guess who was right?”

“I would still trust her”, Levy stated and he looked back at the tiny bluenette in bewilderment. The Chair sighed. She knew, given the facts she had before her now, that it was foolish, but it was still true. Rose had been her guardian angel, and she wasn't willing to let all of that slip away. “So I guess that makes me even more of a fool than you”, she added, hoping it would make him feel a little better. She was supposed to be a calculating scholar after all.

There was a long silence between the four. The sounds of the others training nearby seemed twice as loud, every clash of metal ringing past them without disturbance.

“It's not about that, though, is it?”, Evergreen asked carefully and Bickslow tensed anew.

“You loved her.”

The rogue looked away, pursing his lips lightly as that stone again weighed down his heart. “I don't any more. So who cares?” With no one stopping him, he turned around and stomped out of the training range.

Levy closed her eyes for a moment, running a hand over her cheek. She wasn't really sure if he was trying to fool only them or if he was trying to lie even to himself, but it was not awfully convincing when he reacted so strongly. “Do I have to be worried about this?”, she wondered aloud.

The archer shook her head. “No, My Lady. He'll be fine. He will stay focused, he always does.” Gaining a sceptical look, she added, “I will keep an eye on him. If I think there is trouble, I will tell Laxus myself.”

“Okay.”

  


Returning to her study, Levy found a letter had been delivered from Magnolia Town. Picking the paper knife up, she opened the envelope and hastily read it. A deep frown formed on her forehead and she took a seat to reread the text a second time.

The behaviour worried Gajeel greatly. “Levy?”, he prompted and she looked back up. After a seconds hesitation, she whispered, “Fire”, and the page in her hand ignited, landing on the desk in black flakes.

“What's going on?”, the knight asked, eyeing the ash before his liege. What secrets was she hiding now and why was she so unsettled?

“I have to speak with Laxus”, the bluenette mumbled and got up, but Gajeel blocked her way. With everything that was going on, he wasn't about to stay ignorant any longer. “Tell me”, he insisted irritably.

Shaking her head, the scholar tried to evade it. “Gajeel, it's better if...”

“I worry about you. Aright?”, her champion interrupted. He took a hold of her shoulders softly, rubbing small circles over the cloth, mostly to soothe himself. “I worry. So please, let me know. You can trust me.”

The hazel eyes widened in surprise. “Of course I trust you. It's not about that.” She never doubted that he could be trusted. Not for years had she questioned that. She kept secrets so he wouldn't have to worry, so he could focus solely on being at her side and protecting her, and perhaps a little bit because it was tradition. There was nothing odd about guards knowing little of their liege's affairs. “Guards don't usually get involved with the state's affairs.”

“I refuse to be just that, Levy. I love you and I want to know what is going on with you”, Gajeel almost growled and she realised her mistake.

He was no mere guard. While it seemed that way to the outside world, it was cruel of her to act like it in private. He was so much more than just her champion and that was exactly why it pained him when she kept things from him, because it wasn't just a job, it was personal. She had been so consumed with her work, it seemed she had missed to make the distinction. “I'm sorry.”

Ever since they came to the capital, she had spent almost every waking hour working. Leaning up, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I'm so sorry. I love you, and I trust you Gajeel. Sometimes I lose track of me and us.” Levy knew she was good at her work, but it seemed she was lacking when it came to relationships.

“It's aright”, the dark haired man said as softly as he could. Stroking a hand over her cheek, he kissed her again, lingering this time. “So tell me. What is going on?”

“The letter was from Makarov Dreyar. I wrote to him because of a dream I've been having”, the bluenette began.

“The nightmare?”, Gajeel wondered. He had heard her wake up every night, screaming in terror, but that was several months ago now. She had told him about it vaguely, that she had seen Jessalyn, dead and creepy, all bloody.

“I think it might be a warning”, Levy murmured. “I met her child, Laxus's child, Lilithen. She was so tiny and…” She couldn't find the words to describe it. It had been so odd looking and wrong, but at the same time so human and not scary at all. “Jessalyn handed her to me before I woke and since, the dream hasn't appeared again. I think it means something and Lord Dreyar agrees. I just don't know what. Why would she hand me her child?”

“A sign of trust?”, the knight suggested. “If just once spirits could tell us straight up what it is they want, eh?”, he jested and the bluenette frowned a little. “You've spoken with spirits?”

Making a vague gesture, he grumbled, “Not really I guess. I kind of... met one.” The curious hazel eyes didn't let him get away with saying that little. “It was my father I think. He was at my side after I pledged myself to you.” Blushing ever so little, he admitted, “He held my hand to help me through the pain after Rose's attack. I think he wanted me to walk that path. I think, he might have been proud of me.”

“He would be”, Levy smiled and he gave a small huff. He hadn't ever made his father proud when the geezer was still alive. It was a shame it had taken him that long. Shaking the thought away, he instead focused on what he had in front of him. “Either way, we should tell the king first thing tomorrow.”

Looking out the window, Levy realised how late it had gotten. The sun had ducked behind the rooftops already and the last of its light began to retreat from the sky, leaving behind a beautiful orange shimmer. There wouldn't be the time to have any further meetings today and this was something to be discussed in private

She nodded a little. “Yea. First thing tomorrow.”

  


Evergreen had informed the High Constable of the talk Levy had with them in the training range. She had implored Freed to try and understand his comrade. The rogue needed his friends on his side, especially now that he was suffering and Laxus was too occupied to even notice.

The tiring silence between him and Bickslow had lasted for far too long already, and all because of the short term Lady and her undignified way. However irritated Freed was with the rogue for falling in love with someone that barbaric and impious, he knew that the archer was right. He wanted to be there for his friend, and that was exactly why he as down here, heading to see the redhead.

He walked along the confusing hallways with as much calm as one possibly could, knowing how dangerous it was to get lost in the labyrinth that lay beneath the capital.

Two jailers escorted him, leading on with sure and rhythmic steps. While their relaxed pace communicated an aura of safety, their firm focus told a different tale. The two did not look around for any marks to orientate themselves by, for they knew it was futile, and not a word was exchanged as they walked, one foot placed before the other in the exact same manner as they had done it a million times before.

Reaching the cell, they stopped and nodded him in the direction of the door. With a deep breath, the swordsman left their side and approached the thick metal that had been worked into the opening in the stone so smoothly you could have overlooked it if you were careless.

The small opening, where only thick bars sat, allowed a clear view of the tiny room beyond. Leaning in, he glared at the woman within.

Rose was lying on her side on the simple hay bed in the far corner. Her body was draped in but the cheap brown tunic she had been given upon her imprisonment. Eyes shut and the short red hair tousled, she appeared treacherously tranquil.

The injuries she had sustained from her fight with the king had healed by now, but the scars were still well visible. Her face was now more asymmetric than even before, not only the old scar decorating it but her nose leaning to the left.

It served her right. She had brought it upon herself when she attacked Laxus. She had done the unforgivable before, hitting the blonde, but this time around she had drawn a blade and launched at the sovereign with intent.

What did Bickslow still see in her? He couldn't understand it. The rogue was clever, honourable, and skilled, while she was untrustworthy, brutish, and disloyal.

“Rose”, he said and the redhead glanced back at the door through her bangs. She didn't move a muscle even as she spotted her visitor in the corridor outside. It wasn't worth the effort to seem courteous any more, not from behind bars. “So now you can talk to me? Now that I am locked up, no more threat to the Lamb?”, she sneered.

Balling one of his hands, Freed repressed a sigh. There really was nothing good to this woman. Her reason for being seemed solely to disrupt and hurt. She was a bandit, through and through. “If you give my liege a reason to issue the order, I will gladly be the one to take your head. Know this, Traitor”, he declared.

Finally, the redhead sat up, but on her face a slim smile appeared. “And why would I care?”, she taunted. “Death is death, no matter who delivers it.” “I wouldn't let Laxus dirty his hands on your like”, Freed retorted angrily.

Taking a measured breath, he reminded himself he was here not to fight with her, but to talk. “He cares about you, you know? Laxus truly cares about everyone under his protection, be it soldier or commoner. That is why he makes for a great king. Even after you betrayed him, he still asked, requested you let it go and walk away, because he could see your pain.” Seeing absolutely no reaction on the woman, he grumbled, “But that didn't seem to mean a shit to you.”

Rose clenched her teeth. She knew that already. How stupid did he think her exactly? Not that she really needed that question answered. “Are you quite done berating me, Red Riding Hood?”, she asked in the most bored tone of voice she could manage and anger crept to the green haired man's face.

Why didn't she care about anyone, about anything? It wasn't simply explained by her background. He too had been trained to be heartless and fierce, but he left that attitude on the battlefield. Never would he betray those that stood by his side. He couldn't understand and he couldn't accept her egoistic behaviour.

Now that she was out of the way at least, he would stand with his friend without the luxury of understanding what it was the rogue liked about this despicable woman. “Rot in hell”, he growled, turning on his heel and leaving.

Giving a small huff of amusement, Rose flopped back down. “Don't you worry, I already am.”

Closing her eyes again, she escaped back into her fantasies, into the world where everything played out differently. No one died and no one left her. No one exploited her and no one pretended to care only to turn their back on her. And most importantly, she made no mistakes that costed her blood.

 

 


	17. Dressed in Red

As the sun disappeared behind the rooftops of the capital, the candles and torches of Mercurius were lit. While the castle never truly slept, tonight was special and the halls were buzzing with chatter. Servants ran back and forth to get everything in order in time.

Tonight, the new generals of the royal army were going to feast together with the king to celebrate their promotion.

The throne room had been decorated richly in cloth and flowers. Long tables replaced the benches that usually stood along both sides of the grand hall. When the first guests arrived, everything was in place. Huge platters of fruit, bread and meat awaited the hungry men and women.

Even up on the throne plateau, one table stood for the most important guests. They were allowed to dine up there with the king himself. Levy and Gajeel were among those chosen few. Her, because she was the chair and him just because she insisted he shouldn't have to stand on the sidelines.

She had never demanded anything of the sort before, because she knew it was unfitting, but the knight had reminded her of the fact that they were more than guard and liege. She wanted him at her side whenever she could and Laxus did not protest. In fact, he used the opportunity to invite Evergreen and Bickslow to sit with them as well. While the High Constable had a traditional place at his side during this event, the other two did not.

Levy was a little concerned about his protection as of lately. They had already seen several assassins, one of which got dangerously close to their sovereign. She really ought to talk to him about choosing new royal guards. With each of the current ones having a secondary occupation, he was mostly protected by regular castle guards these days. While skilled as well, they were not the kind of specialists that ought to be trusted with this sort of thing. She would have to bring it up tomorrow, together with the nightmares.

She had never put much trust in fortune telling, but it was too perfect of a bad omen to ignore. Dead people, bloody eyes, a ghostly silence in which only crying is heard? The only thing missing was a clear sign that read 'something bad will happen'. There was little she could do tonight, though. They were expected.

Walking down into the festive hall, she was greeted with respect. All the nobles attending as well as the military leaders that were honoured here today bowed their heads as she strode over the long brown carpet and up the stairs to her seat. The same procedure repeated itself for the other guests of honour.

Finally, the king himself entered the throne room. Every single person in the grand hall rose from their seats and bowed low as he too headed for his seat, the finely decorated throne of Fiore. Over his shoulders draped was for once not the cloak of the Mayor of Aster, but a more finely stitched garment in red and yellow, fitting for the sovereign at this fine occasion.

He motioned the guests to sit and waited while chair legs screeched and maille scrambled. No one was crazy enough to wear full plate at a feast like this, but armour was still a sign of authority, so lighter version were seen all around the room. The only in full gear were the guards dutifully standing along the walls. Levy thought it must be incredibly annoying to stand there, watching everyone else eat and drink far into the night.

Once the room had quieted anew, Laxus cleared his throat. Standing, he welcomed the men and women to the castle, to the army, and to their new postings, wherever they would end up across the land. His little speech had been written by one of the scholars and was presented somewhat stiffly, but no one would dare be so impolite as to point it out.

With music and plenty of wine, the night was dutifully celebrated. It was an old wisdom that any man that didn't find himself under the table come morning was hardly worth the metal decorating him. Laxus too drank adequate amounts, but the stately man could take more than most, calmly staying in his seat.

Levy on the other hand did not try to match the men and her champion too kept his word, taking it easy despite any machismo.

The cheery event was interrupted when a commotion began outside. One after one, the guests realised the sound was not part of the festivities and quieted down, looking around and exchanging bewildered look. Laxus too frowned as he heard a multitude of metal boots echoing in the corridors around the banquet hall.

Turning to his royal guards, he got but a shrug. Just as the archer instructed someone to find out what was going on, a guard slammed the door to the hall open and looked around in confusion, as though unsure where to report between all these commanders.

He was out of breath and sweaty, clearly in distress. The entire hall held its breath, everyone watching the guard, wondering what kind of news he might bear. Standing up, Laxus finally broke the silence, demanding, “Speak. What is going on?”

“We, uh, the queen...”, was all the man managed between heavy breaths before the blonde had rushed past him and out the door, his royal guards at his heel.

Levy pulled her champion up with her as she got out of her chair. “Get Wendy and Sherria”, she said hurriedly and made to leave, but Gajeel caught her wrist before she could.

“If there's an assassin in the castle, I'm not leaving yer side”, the knight complained, but she wouldn't have it.

“Now!”, she hissed determined, meeting his red eyes head on. They didn't have the time to argue about this right now!

The stress of the situation made her incredibly easy to irritate. With an exasperated sigh, she pointed at two new generals that happened to sit close by and declared, “You two are with me.” Gajeel knew the castle better than these newcomers. He would be able to find the two healers far quicker than they would.

Still, the knight didn't move. “I'm a mage Gajeel. I'll be fine. Go already”, Levy added to reassure him and he finally nodded, leaving her side in a run.

  


Mirajane returned to her chambers late in the evening, as the feast was already in full roll. Exhausted, she decided not to make an appearance. The day had been long and filled with endless talk, and none of it was particularly encouraging. The progress on the rove was almost non-existent. It was not even close to as long as they needed it to be after almost half a year of work.

At this point, she was glad she had not yet managed to produce any offspring, even if that led to vile rumours spreading throughout the kingdom. She hoped Laxus wouldn't find out that his manhood was being doubted because of the delay. It was so silly. The stress simply kept them both uninterested in having much sex. Of course it would be unlikely she got pregnant like this.

Even knowing that the chances were slim as it were, she wondered if it would not be more prudent to intentionally drag it out even further. Maybe Laxus wouldn't agree, though. He seemed very eager to have a child, to build a family with her. She loved that though, just not yet, not under these circumstances.

Maybe it would be wiser to keep this though to herself, to sabotage them in silence. She could refuse him when he did have the energy to come close during the night. It would be hard to do, for she loved and wanted him, but perhaps, for their future, it would be better if she did.

Pondering these things, she crept under the covers. They smelled of the blond man and that scent alone was enough to make her doubt her willpower. Would she really be able to push him away if he advanced?

A sound brought her out of her thoughts. Something unfamiliar rattled in the chambers outside and she frowned deeply. Her husband was not supposed to return for another few hours. He could not simply leave the banquet, or ignore it entirely as she did.

Hearing the door out to the hallway open and a loud crash of metal ringing through the room, she jumped back up. Hastily, she searched the cupboard for her old dagger. Finding it, she clutched it firmly in her hand and edged to the door.

It was hard to determine just what was going on behind the heavy oak barrier. Everything had gone silent again. Sliding one foot forward, she ever so slowly pushed the door open without occupying her hands and glanced into the sitting room beyond.

Through the slim gap, she only saw a candle holder lying on the ground, a probable cause for the clattering earlier.

Exhaling, she calmly opened the door and stepped into the room only to realise she had been dead wrong. On the ground lay a guard, above him a dark figure. It was a slender and tall man, dressed in black and with oblong pupils like a snake. An assassin had made his way not just into the castle, but into the royal chambers themselves. Her eyes went wide as she realised what danger she was in.

Yukino too had found the time to rush into the room and assess the situation. Drawing her sword at the first sight of blood, she attacked the man threatening her liege with his presence. Despite her heavy armour protecting her, the rogue's blade found its way underneath it and she coughed blood onto the dark cloth in the effort to still take her swing.

A rush of adrenaline washed through The Queen. She didn't have the time to realise that her champion, falling to the ground, was a lost cause as he hurried forward, jabbing her dagger into the man's back with all her strength.

She might not have used it in a long time, but that did not mean she had left behind the fighting spirit of her youth. The same willpower that had helped her protect and feed her siblings still drove her to this very day.

A grunt of pain echoed around her, but she was unsure if it was from the rogue she had injured or if it was in fact her own voice she heard, suddenly finding herself being thrown to the ground. Blinking up at the assassin, she screamed for help, but it was too late. The man rushed forward like the wind and her life flashed before her eyes.

She regretted not a single second of her time here at the castle, at Laxus's side, even if it was what led to this end. She just hoped he would be able to accept it as well, to go on and stay strong.

Holding the small weapon still clutched in her hands out toward her assailant, she awaited the end. She tried her best to defend herself against the blurry figure, but it did little against a trained rogue. In one last painful sensation, the world went dark around her.

  


Hurrying toward the king's chambers with the two slightly disoriented military leaders at her side, Levy could smell the blood as soon as she reached the upper levels. She saw the fine mantle of the sovereign disappear in the door just as she herself turned the corner.

When she too had reached the door, she stopped in mid step. The unthinkable had happened. The Queen of Fiore was dead. She lay sprawled across the floor, limp and pale. Her fine white nightgown had turned red from the blood still tricking down from the ruby necklace of her torn throat. The long white locks forming a halo around her head, she looked like nothing less than a fallen angel. Even in death, her beauty was beyond compare.

Laxus fell to his knees at his wife's side, reaching out to stroke a few messy strands of hair out of her face. Her blue eyes didn't as usual turn their attention to him, accompanied by her sweet smile. Instead they stared out aimlessly, slowly turning glassy. Dropping his head, he rested his forehead against hers. She couldn't be gone. She had to still be in there. She simply had to.

Stuck in shock and denial, Laxus didn't take notice of anything around him any more. He didn't register the fact that Bickslow left, called his guards together and began the search for the culprit. He didn't register that the healers arrived and tended to The Queen's severely injured champion. He didn't even register the other woman's struggle with death and how she lost it.

Freed's heart ached as he watched the entire scene unfold. The blonde was almost cuddling with the dead body while around him everyone did their best to try and handle the aftermath.

Wendy and Sherria lost their fist patient. Levy and Gajeel were at their side, speaking with the young scholars softly and easing at least their experience of events. Only their leader was still sitting quietly on the ground.

Never had he seen his liege this broken.

Tentatively walking closer, he tried to catch the man's attention. “Laxus. Come on, lets go somewhere else.”

It didn't seem the blonde even heard him and Evergreen shook her head at his effort. “Let him mourn. He needs to.”

They waited in heavy silence for what felt like hours. The healers had already left, the other two bodies been carried away, and the castle guards had respectfully retreated from the room.

Bickslow had returned with little beyond irrelevant rumours to report. While he was evidently displeased with the result, and both his friends were uneasy, at least one person kept a cool head in the face of tragedy. Levy had started writing down every piece of information she could gather.

Scribbling with a coal pen, the bluenette remained focused. It was not as though the death of Mirajane didn't hurt her too. The woman had been remarkable. She had been an angel, leading with good example, able to motivate and encourage everyone around her. This loss burned in her chest as it did in that of the rest of the kingdom. Organising the information she had was simply the one way she knew to handle the situation.

She was brought out of her thoughts again as the others stirred. Laxus had moved. He sat straight up now, glaring down at the red stained carpet in fury. He stood and turned around. A little of his wife's blood had caught on his knees, but he didn't seem to notice, or at least not to care.

Even the air around him dared not shift as he found his voice. “I am going to murder her.”

Everyone present frowned before realising whom he was speaking of. “Calm down Laxus. There is no way Rose did this. She is still in custody”, Evergreen stated. She had little love for the woman after what she had done, but this was madness.

“She hired someone. Somehow, she did this. I know she did”, Laxus hissed, pointing to the dead body lying at his feet. He was certain of it. She had threatened him personally. In fact, she was the only one he could think of to ever have done that, at least out of the people that were still alive.

“There is no way she managed to...”, Freed began, but the glare he was met with caused him to loose his voice. Whether it was fury and sorrow alone or the alcohol too played its part, he couldn't say, but Laxus was not about to hear reason right now. That much was clear.

The blonde turned to Bickslow instead and demanded firmly, “Lead me to her cell. Right now.”

The rogue hesitated. He would have spoken out against this frankly ridiculous notion as well, but when it came to the redhead he didn't feel like he had any right to give his opinion any more. To walk the sovereign down into the dungeons in his current state of mid did not strike him as very wise, though.

Levy sighed. She too saw that arguing with the king was a fruitless endeavour for the time being. She had read about this effect before. Something terrible had happened and after his shock, the man was now enraged. It was only natural. He would have to hear if from Rose herself. “Lets go”, she agreed and closed her notebook.

The Shadow Master turned to her in bewilderment. As far as he knew, the redhead meant a lot to Levy, far more than to him even. “You can't be serious”, he tired, but she simply shrugged.

“Only one way to find out, right?”

Leading on, she escorted their entire group down the long spiral staircase, Gajeel carrying a torch to light her way. Bickslow came to her side once they reached the wide door at the very base. He did not want to publicly doubt his liege, so he leaned in and spoke very quietly. “Levy, you cannot really think that Rose...”, he began.

“No. Of course not”, she interrupted in a whisper of her own. “He doesn't either, not really. He's not dumb, just shocked and angry, and perhaps a little drunken.”

Both did they watch closely when the blonde strode into the labyrinth itself. “At least he's still sane. For now”, Bickslow murmured and the bluenette nodded. That was indeed the biggest issue for them now.

The heavy door of the cell would keep Rose safe from Laxus and any potential outburst. The king would get his answer and it would hopeful lead to him calming down again. The real problem was that emotions of grief quickly could turn on you down here. That, Levy knew out of personal experience. They would have to keep a close eye on the king.

Giving the rogue a meaning look, she headed inside as well. The first two jailers they ran into were tasked with leading them to the right cell. While Levy knew the general direction, she had not actually been down in that part of the labyrinth herself.

Although Freed had been here just yesterday, he couldn't say he had any better idea of where they were headed than the rest. He simply trusted in the well trained specialists and held his torch high.

Once at the thick metal door, Laxus knocked on it loudly to get the prisoner's attention. Rose jumped at the sudden sound and sat up on her bed, frowning at the blonde through the bars. Sighing irritably, she leaned back against the wall. “What now? Are you going to give me another moral lesson? I thought I'd at least have my peace down here.”

The king was in no mood for her shenanigans. “You murdered her. I know you did”, he growled darkly and the redhead looked back up in bewilderment.

“I murdered whom exactly?”

“The Queen was assassinated this morning. This is new to you?”, Levy asked, giving her the cue to show Laxus that she was innocent of this crime.

Getting up with a start, Rose came over to the door, glancing out through the bars to spot Levy, Gajeel, and all three royal guards in the blond man's company. She shook her head and then met the enraged orange eyes. “Mirajane is dead? You think I would hurt her? Have you lost your mind?!”

“You said you'd take everything...”, the king began in a scowl, but she had no intensive to play polite with him any longer and swiftly interrupted, “I meant your fucking crown you dimwit, the ting you did not earn on you own!”

Stepping back, she shook her head in disbelief. “As if I would lay finger on Mirajane. She is... She was a lovely woman.”

Laxus too took a step back at that. His shoulders fell, as though he was disappointed it wasn't her, and the lot of them went quiet.

Even Rose realised this had been a mere search for a culprit to blame when she saw the orange eyes sink to the floor. He was grieving and needed something to punch in order to make it all better, to fix the situation, but there was no good target in sight. She was lucky there was a door between them or he might not have thought to ask first.

The king wordlessly turned back around and Levy tensed, ready to cast her protective spell. She had perfected it since her incident with Gajeel. Now it really only protected the person she cast it on for a while and didn't inscribe itself into their skin. It lingered in the air around them instead.

Expecting the sovereign to lose his mind to the curse at any moment, she was greatly surprised when he simply started stalking away. A glance to Bickslow revealed that the Shadow Master was just as baffled. Laxus must somehow still not feel the grief. Maybe he would manage to stay angry long enough to walk back out of the dungeons at least.

Not willing to take the risk, Levy led them toward a closer exit instead of back to the castle and they emerged from the underground labyrinth in the middle of the main barracks. The soldiers stopped in their tracks and respectfully saluted when the king passed even though he didn't pay it any mind.

Freed organised a cart for them, shooing the grooms into readying horses to pull it while Laxus stood silent in the middle of the open square. At the very least, the patches of blood on his dark trousers had dried and looked like a simple texture in the cloth by now. It would give Bickslow's spies just a little more time before the rest of the kingdom found out about what had happened.

“Lady Levy, what is going on?”

The Chair turned around in surprise and came face to face with a familiar man. Serena looked between her and the uncharacteristically still king. Worry shone in his eyes, but also confusion.

“I am sorry Serena, but I cannot tell you. You will hear about it soon enough”, she evaded and the round man nodded in understanding.

“I see. Something happened, huh? I thought you were perhaps just exploring the labyrinth, like that royal guard, but then I saw that the king was here too.”

Levy frowned a little. As far as she knew, none of them could walk the dungeons on their own. “What royal guard?”

“The masked rogue. He sometimes comes through here and heads down further in one direction or the other.”

So the rogue didn't just have a mark, but could feel magic like any real mage. That was most interesting. If magic marks and brands could have that kind of effect, the implications were great. She would have to make a little experiment with Gajeel. Now was not the time for these thoughts, though.

“Take care now, Captain”, she merely excused herself and he bowed his head in respect.

  


Back at the castle the feast had been dismissed. Laxus spent long hours sitting before the small shrine that had been placed by the throne in honour of his wife. By tomorrow, the carpenters would be done with her casket and her body would be prepared to rest here for another few days. No one was allowed at his side until far into the morning hours. Only Bickslow watched over him from the shadows.

Levy and Gajeel retreated to her chambers. The bluenette fell into bed tiredly. It was an odd phenomena, the exhaustion that came from emotional distress. Despite the lack of physical strain, it had the capability to leave entire cities weary, even for days and weeks. In some cases it could last for entire generations.

Gajeel pulled his armour off before coming to her side, pulling her close under the covers. Making sure to bring as much as possible of her small form into his warm embrace, he slowly stroked his hands down her back to soothe.

While convinced the bluenette mourned The Queen that she had looked up to so much, he was mostly worried about what was to come. If not even the royal chambers were secure, was Levy truly safe here in Mercurius? She too was a person of great power now. What if someone got it into their head to try for her throat as well? No matter how it might look to others, he wasn't about to leave her side again. He would watch her day and night and if it so killed him.

“I failed her.”

Looking down, he saw Levy's eyes had reddened, her delicate hands balled to fists and held over her heart.

“What are you talking about?”, he wondered. She couldn't possibly believe this was on her, could she? She was not a guard, not a spy, not even a fighter. No one expected a scholar to protect anyone.

“The nightmare, the omen. This must be it, what Jessalyn tried to warn me about. Death, the death of Laxus's relative. I was too slow. I didn't get it in time”, the bluenette said quietly. Tears ran down her cheeks and he tugged her just a little tighter against his chest.

“Don't be silly. It is not your fault. You tried to decipher it at once. You did everything right. No one could have foretold this.”

Even if he claimed that with such a sure voice, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone might have been able to, had she just focused more on her search for an answer. She had let herself get distracted by politics and bureaucracy.

Hiding her face against his tunic, she cried until she was tired enough to fall asleep.

  



	18. A Grieving Soul

News of the queen's death spread through the capital like wildfire and by the time the sun peeked into the streets, everyone knew.

Bickslow had expected public knowledge to hinder his investigation, as it tended to. People always told stories, and in the spirit of ancient tradition they grew in magnitude for each repetition. Finding the truth was not made easier when the versions of events became more numerous. The Queen, however, had left an impression on the common man.

It was far beyond the castle walls that she was seen as The Angel of Fiore. Black cloth had been hung over paintings of the royalty in every pub and inn that had one and the bards had already begun to spin stories and compose songs of the fair woman and her elegant dance with the deities.

This time, only few of the stories that reached Bickslow's ear were warped and he could soon paint a clear picture of what had happened last night.

The castle was still ghostly quiet and his steps created a loud echo in contrast. Even the regular guards tread as lightly as they could manage, almost cringing for every time their metal boots hit the stone flooring.

Reaching the grand hall, he found the king sitting in his throne with a tired face. The rings under his eyes were dark and his entire pose made for a sad image. His usually so grim but impressive stance was all but gone. Sunken together like that, looked almost smaller, and definitively older.

If at all possible, the guards standing here today were even more uncomfortable than the rest, barely daring to breathe. Even the Guard Master of Mercurius and the Black Steel Knight were tense where they stood beside their respective liege.

Levy was sitting in her chair calmly in contrast, her hazel eyes focused on a book in her arm. She was formulating the story of Mirajane Dreyar so it could be copied into the King's Book in finest calligraphy. The scribbling of her pen was audible in this unbearable silence.

Taking a measured breath, Bickslow crossed the room and stopped before the coffin that now took up the space before the stone steps. Mirajane had been prepared for her travel to the afterlife. Dressed in finest silk and lain upon a bed of white crocus flowers, she looked to be at peace. Here she would rest and receive the blessings of those that were allowed to visit the hall.

A fresh bird egg lay in a nest of dry and fragrant hay as offering to Ophiuchus once he came to Earth Land for her. It was said the enormous snake escorted the spirits into his realm during the second night after their death. Weather that meant someone that died during a night would stay one or two days was debatable. Bickslow didn't believe in the legend either way.

As soon as life left a body, he could no longer read the presence of any soul within. It seemed to leave its host quite instantaneously. The idea that it took time was in his opinion merely wishful thinking, so that relatives and friends could say their farewell and believe that there was still someone or something there to hear them.

In a way, it was a stressful attitude toward death. There was no chance for the other members of Fairy Tail or for her siblings to visit in time before her departure. They would hold a funeral in Magnolia Town instead, over a trinket of some sort, but that was hardly the same. When, and if, they travelled halfway across the country, they would still only get to see a cold slab of stone with her name on it. It was sad to think she wouldn't get to hear their voices one more time. Perhaps one day magic would demystify even death and provide a clear answer to these questions.

In the white hair was the slim gold crown, first to be removed when she was lowered into the earth. In the limp hands lay her dagger, so she may protect herself even in death, however that made sense.

He remembered the blade all too well. She had, fairly clumsily, threatened him with it when Laxus brought him down into the pub of the Fairy Tail castle, declaring that he was now part of their guard troop. Despite her own background as thief, she had little love for him for a long time. Not that he could blame her. He had tried to steal from, and been ready to kill the very people that she called family, that had saved her life.

All the shenanigans they had come up with since that time ran through his head. The spying games and secretive sign language, the times they investigated rumours on behalf of the Guard Master, Lord Dreyar. She had been playful, smart, kind and equally serious if need be.

Why hadn't he seen it coming? With the former attacks on his liege, he should have realised she would be in danger as well. Swallowing back any guilt for now, he lowered his head and said his prayer before walking over to the sovereign and bowing down formally.

“I know who performed the hit on Mirajane.”

That got the blond man's attention. New life seemed to spark in his eyes. “Who?”, he demanded at once, leaning forward in his throne.

“A rogue named Kurohebi. He works for Raven Tail, an assassin’s guild from the north.”

Laxus clenched his fist hard enough to cause his knuckles to whiten. His entire body seemed to scream at him to get up, find this man, and kill him. Even if he had wanted to do that exactly, he couldn't leave his wife's side during this time, not until her soul had left his presence. “Find him and bring him to me, and anyone else related to that guild”, he ordered and Bickslow nodded.

“Yes, My King.”

“Hold on”, Levy protested. She had closed her book, the coal pen her bookmark. “My King, I know what you feel right now, but you cannot let that dictate your actions. Don't take revenge with your own hands”, she urged.

The recommendation was not well received. Laxus clenched his jaw in anger. “How the hell would you know what I feel right now? Ha?!”

His loud voice made most guards in the room hold their breath, practically sweating under their armour even in the chilly stone room. The Chair however seemed to have expected as much and calmly set her writing aside before standing up and stalking over to the broad steps where she too showed her utmost respect by bowing down before him. He needed to see that she did not patronise him, did not think him any less of a king than before. She was not Rose, this was not the death of Jessalyn, and plain revenge was not the answer this time.

“Your Highness, I have lost many that were dear to me. My friends, family, the entire village of Aster was eradicated in a most brutal way. I had to sit behind closed windows and watch the carcases of everyone I knew rot away outside.” She didn't have to look to know Gajeel averted his eyes as she spoke it aloud.

“I might not have been married to anyone, but I do believe I know what you are going through. Now I beg you, please, do not make the same mistake that I did”, she asked in the most sincere way she could. It seemed to work, the expression on the blond man's face softening again.

He knew exactly what mistake she spoke of. She had told him about it in Mai when he faced the aftermath of his first great battle, stood in the midst of mauled corpses, seeing all the lives lost and taken on his command. As little child, she had murdered a defeated and bound man in cold blood, taken revenge on him for her loss, and she still seemed to regret it to this day.

“Don't even look at the man that did this. Just let someone else handle it”, Freed agreed with the bluenette. He did not want to see his liege loose his way because of whatever scum had caused this.

Nodding, Laxus decided. “Kill him.”

Bickslow stood, bowing his head lightly once more before turning on his heel and leaving the throne room.

Riding to the Northern Gate Inn, he hitched his horse in front and headed inside. He gave the bartender a sign and the man disappeared into the back at once.

In the light of recent events, Bickslow had called his most trustworthy and skilled of acquaintances into town. Walking over to the man sitting in the far end of the bar, he stopped and waited until the rogue and his comrades looked up to show he had their undivided attention.

Even in this sketchy place, Kama stood out as a creepy individual. It might have to do with the two large scythes strapped to his back. The manically grinning metal face guard covering his mouth and nose surely helped as well, only a pair of piercing grey eyes glaring back at you from under the black hood.

The rest of his group looked cuddly in comparison. Two beautiful women, one huge brute and the rather peculiar fellow called Uosuke. Bickslow didn't even know what his strengths were supposed to be, but if The Reaper kept him around, he had to be impressive.

“I need your team to kill Kurohebi of Raven Tail”, Bickslow stated and the assassin gave him a blank look.

The old bartender came over to their table and placed a handsome stack of gold coins down on in.

“The same amount awaits once the job is done and if you get any other Raven on the way, I will make sure that is reflected in your reward as well”, the Shadow Master added, nodding to the payment.

Reaching out with one armour clad hand the assassin picket the stack up and assessed the value offered to him. Nodding, he slid it under his cape and stood. “We'll bring you his head as proof.”

As he headed for the door, the rest of the Garou Knights rose from their seats as well and followed their leader out. It wouldn't be long before the culprit met his fate now.

  


Once the castle doors were closed again and no more nobles would pay their respects for this day, Laxus rose to his feet and approached the flower bed his wife rested upon. She was as beautiful as ever.

Reaching out for her, he softly stroked over one pale cheek. The women that tended to her body had done a great job indeed. You could barely see the difference to her former light skin colour. Hadn't he know better, he could have thought she was merely sleeping.

Spotting a candle that had tipped to the side a little, he straightened it in its holder and broke off the wax that had dribbled down onto the table. He was not about to let anything compromise the pretty arrangement that honoured his wife.

Handing the cold wax pieces to a servant, he took another look at the white haired woman.

“It is my fault that she is dead.”

Freed came to his side. He couldn't just stand by when his friend said things like that. It was foolishness. “What are you talking about?”, he questioned.

“I should have given her better guarding after the first attack. I should have ordered more protection”, Laxus said and he swallowed hard. As High Constable, he could have done that as well. Evergreen as Guard Master could have too, along with a handful of others. If that was a reason to feel guilty, there were a lot of people to blame. They had tightened the guard posts after the first incident already and no one since had made their way as far as into the castle up until yesterday.

“You couldn't have known they would go after her. None of us can predict the future.”

Levy tensed as she observed the conversation. She didn't think it wise to tell him about the nightmare now. He hardly needed to be reminded of his never born child while trying to process this death. She took a measured breath and spoke up.

“Everyone feels guilty and no one is at fault. No one but the killer, that is. Most tragedies go this way, no matter how much easier it would be to say otherwise.”

The king did not find a verbal response, but she saw that he understood what she meant. Clapping his high constable on the shoulder, Laxus retreated for the night. His chambers had been cleaned already, any mark of the struggle removed. Despite the effort, he would no doubt be uncomfortable, standing in that spot.

  


Freed pondered for hours what he ought to do. Laxus was completely beside himself. It was no wonder, but he had a feeling there was more to it than a healthy mourning process. The blonde had not shown any emotion. He just sat on his throne the entire day, barely reacting to anything anyone did or said.

The blonde had saved his life, shown him that there were other ways to restore his honour than to kill himself as to spare others the shame of knowing him. He could fight through tough times and emerge a stronger man than ever before. There was more value in that than there was in ending it.

It was now time to return the favour and help his liege through his pain. The problem was, Freed didn't know how. He had never loved anyone as much as Laxus had loved Mirajane. Or at least no one other than Laxus, and he was still alive. How did one overcome such profound loss?

He sighed as he realised what he had to do. For the third time in as many days, he headed down into the dungeons. Knocking on the metal of the cell door, he saw the redhead tilt her head toward him and roll her eyes.

“What? Are you going to execute me for a crime I didn't commit?”, she asked in a rather bored tone of voice. One would think someone in her position should be a little more worried about that prospect. It was however not why he was here.

“No. I don't think even you could do something like that, not to The Queen.”

Sitting up, the prisoner eyed him for a moment. “Huh. To hear anything short of hatred from you is slightly disturbing.”

It wasn't as though he had any more trust for her than before. He wouldn't have her misunderstand that. “I will never forgive you for attacking my liege. No one strikes The King, let alone attacks him with a sword. Those who dare break the rules shall be subjected to a fate worse than death.”

Rose huffed a laugh at that. “Like this dungeon you mean? I agree, the boredom really is hell. That brat sure knows how to deal out a punishment. He didn't even have the grit to finish it when he should. Attempted murder of a noble, what a joke.”

Freed shook his head at the woman that seemed to embrace death just as long as she didn't have to admit anyone's authority over her. “He is your king too. You put him on the throne, but you don't show him the respect a sovereign deserves. Why?”

“The Lamb has much left to learn before he can call himself a king”, Rose shot back.

She didn't really know why she kept ruffling the green haired man's feathers like this. In all honesty, she thought Laxus did a surprisingly good job with what he had been given. Yes, he was impulsive and, no, he hadn't been raised for this position from the day of his birth, but whom of them had these days?

She needed someone to hate for everything she had been through and he was the one that had profited from the fights, from the deaths. He was the honourable king that had defeated the Phantom Lord even if he merely slit the throat of an already injured man, even if he lost more than half his army, including her sister, along the way due to his complete lack of insight.

“You have much more left to learn before you can call yourself a leader of The Royal Army”, Freed countered and she sniggered. He was right about that at least. She was a thousand times more ill-fit for leading than the blonde. While she had the experience, her patience was no longer than the tip of her now aslant nose.

“Again, I have to disagree. There is nothing for me to learn. I can't lead an army, not now, and sure as hell not in the future. I've seen too much. It isn't my calling. It isn't what I was born for or what I grew up to learn. It is a mask I put on far later, too late. Jess was a rebel and a leader and I am a whore and a bandit, nothing will ever change that.”

“That's not true. You know how much I hate you so take it to heart when I tell you, you were a great high constable, for as long as it lasted.”

She gave him a sceptical look, more than surprised he would disagree with her even when she spoke ill of herself. Her success as military leader was only due to the contacts she had from her time of banditry. She merely cashed in the favours she had. It couldn't be that the new high constable needed that kind of assistance, could it?

Turning to the man entirely, she wondered, “What are you doing down here?”

“I need to speak to someone, someone that knows our king and that has felt the grief he is experiencing now that The Queen is dead.”

Rose frowned at him while she processed what he had said and then shook her head in disbelief. “You came to ask the mentally unstable about a king? This does not bode well.”

Not in the mood for further squabble, Freed stayed on the topic at hand. “Just tell me this. Will he be aright?”

“He will survive. Just don't let him do anything stupid”, the redhead replied. He repressed the urge to say 'like you' and simply nodded instead. “And give him some space to cry. If he doesn't, find a reason to make him”, she added.

Freed met the prisoner's eyes. She seemed back to her old disciplined self all of a sudden and she was dead serious. “I mean it. Be cruel if you have to. Tears are what cleanses our souls from evil, what makes it possible to live through the worst of times retain our humanity. I didn't cry and see what became of me.”

When he still didn't say anything to it, she grumbled a little. “Dan taught me that, aright? Ask the priests if you won't take my word for it.”

Freed did believe her. She was not trustworthy as soldier, was a hopeless bandit and couldn't be asked to follow commands, but she did have a good heart. She hadn't acted out of malice when she betrayed them, but out of sorrow and shock. If anyone knew what a grieving soul needed, it was her. That is why he was down here in the first place.

“Like what?”, he asked and she shrugged. She didn't know The King well enough to make any suggestions, but she could at least give him an inspiring example.

“Jess set the severed head of my first boyfriend on a spike in front of the inn when he turned his back on us and nearly killed me. He gave me this scar as eternal reminder. Don't trust in love. Still, it took me a couple of times to learn that damned lesson”, she told him, stroking a hand over the deep scar on forehead.

She could see how much this information shocked him. He had surely had a different image of the bandit leader, of the perfect Jessalyn Freeheart. Her sister had been cruel, but undeniably effective. “That is the only death that doesn't still haunt me.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. He knew what he had to do. “I got it.”

Turning on his heel, he stopped shortly. “Thanks”, he added before heading back up into the castle itself.

He knew what he would need, but he couldn't do it on his own. It would be far too obvious. It had to look like a careless mistake, like it wasn't the intention. If Laxus suspected anything, it would backfire completely and the man would be enraged instead of finally letting out his sorrow.

He couldn't go to Bickslow either. The rogue would never agree to his plan. Himself, he wouldn't have ever considered it had anyone asked just an hour ago. He would have been outraged and have alerted the guards. It felt so wrong even now.

Deciding on a course of action, he stopped a maid. She was a lean young woman with a feather light stride. Her large round eyes made and curios face made her look like the one of the most innocent beings in the entire castle. It was perfect. Even in the off chance that this light-footed servant would be noticed, no one would suspect her of doing it deliberately.

“I have a task for you”, he began and she nodded, “Of course, Your Grace, anything you need.”

Glancing around to make sure they were alone, he firmed his voice, giving her a stern look, and warned darkly, “If you agree to help out, you have to do what I tell you to and you cannot speak of it to anyone. If you as much as breathe of it to even one single soul you will have to answer to me personally.”

The maid swallowed hard. First when she nodded a second time, now aware her task was an important one, and potentially risky, did he tell her what she needed to do.

Going upstairs to the royal chambers, he relieved the guards and waited for the maid to appear. He had picked the right one at least. He barely noticed her coming down the hallway with the bundle of cloth in her arms.

Hopefully, The King would be in deep slumber by now. Opening the door as silently as humanly possible, he let the maid inside. She hurried over the new carpet and with care placed the dresses down on the table of the sitting room. They were the finest of Mirajane's clothes, the selection that had been provided for the undertakers, each one cleaned and pressed. Now, the rest of them had no clear destination. To place them back in the royal chambers was not awfully odd.

When the maid turned around, the floor creaked under her feet and she tensed up, holding her breath as she listened for any sound from the bedroom. Exhaling slowly, she walked back out of the chambers and took a deep breath of relief. Her cheeks were a little hot and her breathing elevated.

Freed quietly closed the door again and handed the servant a gold coin as reward. He had not promised her anything of the sort, but it seemed adequate given the situation. It was after all a king she had just risked angering.

“A very good job. Now remember, no one can know.”

“Yes, Your Grace”, she nodded respectfully, bowed, and walked away, happy about the ample payment.

Come morning, the king's grieving voice could be heard along the entire upper floor. Freed bit together as he stood outside the door. It hurt to have caused this, but it had to be done. At least the man finally cried. Now he would be aright.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also drew a thing on [Tumblr](http://seradeposts.tumblr.com/post/137235274543/mirajane-as-the-queen-of-fiore-like-in-along)


	19. A New Queen

The story of Mirajane Dreyar had been written into the books, had been read aloud in every great city square, and The Queen's tombstone had been raised in the gardens. The King was still tired, but his court at least forced him to get out of bed every day, to train and to eat. The castle slowly eased back into its usual bustling, the flowers and black cloth gone.

Time mercilessly kept going.

After more than a fortnight had passed, Michello finally lost his patience and demanded a meeting of The Table. As adviser, he did not stickily speaking have the authority to do so, but Laxus agreed to it. He knew he had neglected his duties and that it was time to get back to work. What kind of king was he if he couldn't repress his emotions for the good of his country? Mirajane wouldn't have wanted him to let everything fall apart.

Walking into the meeting hall, he took his seat and motioned the others to do the same. He heard out their reports and then turned to the elderly adviser, curious to hear what he had on his mind.

The man stood and made an effort to straighten his back. In the end he remained leaning onto his cane and Laxus for the first time took notice that the man had grown weaker over the past year.

“You may sit instead if you wish”, he offered, but the proud historian merely huffed a little.

“I'm not dead yet.”

He cleared his throat and began. “It is a sorrowful time and The Queen will be missed, but he have to look forward and think of Fiore as whole. A king cannot remain without a queen for very long.”

It was common knowledge that the man was crude, but this statement still shocked Levy. “It is far too early to speak of such things”, she protested, but Laxus shook his head. He had expected as much. He had made his peace with the idea, or at the very least made an effort to.

“No. He is right. It is important. I have to think of what is best for the country.”

The elder was clearly surprised by his reaction. It was the first time any of them had seen the historian so genuinely impressed with the younger man.

“I am pleased that you see reason. Of course, The Queen cannot be just anyone. You married for love. Now that she is gone, it has to be a strategic marriage. Anything else would be foolish.”

Levy sighed. No matter what the men said, she was convinced it was too early. Laxus would really have to force himself to accept whomever they picked. It had to be someone that would be strong enough to endure this kind of complication, someone that didn't need the blonde to be a stable husband.

“It has to be someone strong and trustworthy, smart, and before all else loyal”, she stated.

“Did not The Queen have a sister?”, Darton wondered aloud, but Laxus made a face at the thought.

“I can't marry Lisanna. That would feel so wrong. It can't be her sister, absolutely not.”

“I still think Levy should be queen”, Michello cut in and the room went quiet.

Levy blinked a few times before pointing to her self in confusion. Was he serious?

“Me?”

The elder nodded. “I said it on the day of the coronation and I will say it again. You two would make for a strong union. A mage at the king's side is optimal. It would be beneficial for Fiore as a whole. Together, you could most probably even rival our neighbouring nations. King Holt would have to think twice before making truth of any threats.”

“And the child might even have magical capabilities. A mage on the throne in the future would bring Fiore new life. It used to be the nation of mages once”, Darton added with an agreeing nod.

“I believe both parties would need a few hours to contemplate”, Fabrizio said calmly. He could sense the tension in their souls. This was no easy decision to make, unless the answer was a clear no. So far, neither party had protested the idea, though.

“That is probably wise”, Michello said before sitting back down. He gave a tired sigh. “But do try to make these hours short”, he grumbled and Levy smiled a little. It was so typical. Even for something this sensitive, he didn't have the patience to wait it out.

Getting up, Laxus dismissed them and she walked back to her study with her champion. He never left her side any more, spending night and day beside her. This would truly make things complicated.

Setting her books aside, she flopped down in her chair and sighed deeply. She knew Gajeel didn't like it. They had a bond. They were one. How could he possibly accept this?

The knight closed the door and turned around with a disgruntled frown. “Why didn't you just turn it down?”

“Because I'm not sure”, Levy admitted.

She could see the folds on his forehead deepening, see doubt shine in his eyes. She was pretty sure she could even see the hurt, the tightening of his chest, in the way he breathed alone. What a horrible person he had fallen for, a cold hearted, calculating scholar.

“This country needs an heir, a strong heir. Laxus can't just marry any lady after what happened. It would look weak. You know that”, she tried to explain.

Gajeel shook his head. “I don't want him to touch you.”

That made her smile. He wanted her to be his, so that he may protect her and be with her forever. She would have loved that, but reality got in their way. They would never be able to marry and if she ever hoped to have a child, she would need to do exactly that. She was not raising a bastard in this cold world. No matter how much she would have loved to have a tiny Gajeel, it was not to be.

“And you think I do? Gajeel, it's not about that.”

When he didn't react further to it, she added solemnly, “You know that we cannot have a child, don't you? Not while I am at the castle.”

“Then lets leave.”

She shook her head. “No.” Meeting the dark red eyes, she could see his heart breaking, and it hurt her in turn.

“I'm sorry, but no. I love you, but this… being here… call it magic, instinct, or destiny, but I can feel it. This is where I belong. This is where I am supposed to be.”

“Don't you see? This is greater than us. This is the stability of an entire nation we're talking about, a nation that has been in chaos for far too long. No matter how annoying that may be, Michello is right.

I know I turned the crown down when it was proposed during the coronation, but since I've been The Chair, I feel like I could really do a good job as queen.” Meeting the knight's eyes, she emphasised, “Gajeel, I can rebuild this country.”

He didn't doubt that for a second. “I know you can, but you can do that where you are”, he argued.

“Not in the same way”, the bluenette protested.

“As chair, I always need to bring in more councillors, make sure they agree with me. As queen, the only one that could overrule me is Laxus. I keep thinking of Fiore as...” She halted. It was silly, wasn't it? “As my country. Mine. I know that is weird, and maybe it is hubris, but... I can't help but feel responsible for everything that happens here. As queen I could exert more control.”

The Black Steel Knight stood silent. It wasn't as though he didn't understand it, didn't know all of this already. He just didn't want it to be true.

“And then there is the matter of my being a mage. If the heir to the throne becomes a magician, that would greatly benefit Fiore as a whole.”

The knight sighed and nodded. “Whatever your decision, I will be here and I will support you.”

“So you're okay with it?”, she wondered in surprise.

“No. And I will never be”, he stated firmly. “But I will accept it. I am egoistic and I don't give a damn about Fiore, about the kingdom or the king, or the people for that matter. What I do care about is you, and I would never force you to turn your back on what you believe in. I love you exactly the way you are, your stubborn way included, so who would I be to try and change you?”

He had little right to be in her way and he knew she was right. As queen, she would not only rebuilt this country, she would make her Fiore greater than ever before. He had no desire to raise a child in the kind of cold world that didn't have women like her in power. He would just have wished it hadn't to be her in particular.

He would have wished they could live happily somewhere else, in a calm town, on a farm somewhere, like the one where he found her all those years ago. There, they would have been able to get married and raise children in the rich forests of Fiore. There, she would have been able to read whatever she wanted until she fell asleep over her books. There, he would have been able to guide an oxen over a field rather than a warhorse through the capital. But it was not to be. If he was to be honest, he had known that all along.

This was all he got and he wouldn't let it slip through his fingers. He would stay at her side, because he loved her, no matter what she did or whom she married.

  


Laxus too contemplated his decision for a while after leaving the meeting. Sitting in the gardens, he looked out over the graves. There had to be a curse on him. The two women that had come close to him in the past were both dead, had both joined Ophiuchus too early because of their involvement with him. If anyone could survive a danger like that, it was a mage.

He had little to complain about at the bluenette. She was an ideal partner for a king, fit her own criteria perfectly. She was strong, her magic giving her capabilities beyond what any armed soldier could accomplish. She was trustworthy, always reliable in her work, always on time, never hesitating to give the task at hand her all. She was smart as any human could ever be, one of the most accomplished young scholars of her time. And before all else, she was loyal. She had not told anyone about his moment of insecurity back in Mai, had never dishonoured a promise in her entire life.

He would have to marry someone, so why not her? The irksome reluctance he was experiencing had little to do with her person. It was a general unwillingness he would have to overcome sooner or later.

“Call everyone back together”, he instructed, but none of his royal guards made a move to execute the order.

“Can you really do this?”, Freed asked sceptically. “This soon?”

“I have to”, Laxus stated. Who knew how long it might take for him to be ready to take another woman’s hand in marriage? Just as the historian had said, a king couldn't stay without a queen for very long. What if it took years? What if that day never came? No, he would not wait. He was going to listen to reason rather than his feelings.

“That's not what I'm asking”, the High Constable insisted.

It irritated Laxus a little that the green haired man had to start arguing now. In this particular case, he would have loved to just get the formalities over with, no discussions, no delays, quick and simple, but that was not the process.

“I am a king now. It doesn't matter what I feel.”

“But you are also our friend and it matters to us”, Evergreen backed the swordsman up.

Looking up at his three loyal friends, Laxus shook his head. He knew they meant well, but this burden was his to bear now. He had chosen this path, and while they had chosen to go down it with him, they were not in the same position as him, did not have quite as much responsibility for Fiore.

It wasn't a problem if neither one of them every married, ever had children, but his family was now one of the most important building blocks that this country needed. If he didn't play his role to perfection, the peace wouldn't last. It was still fragile. One wrong turn and it could come crashing down. He realised that more now than ever before. It was all so damn fragile.

“Mirajane is gone. Nothing can change that. What I have left now is my duty. There is no point in causing more damage than has already been done. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I let this country slip back into chaos after everything that has been sacrificed to get to this point, after all the lives that have been lost to get me to where I am, those of Jessalyn and Mirajane included.”

His friends stood silent, taking a moment to accept it as well before Evergreen finally left them to follow the order he had given several minutes ago.

  


In the evening, Laxus sat before his gathered council once more. Since the last meeting had been just hours ago, protocol was ignored and he began with the simple statement, “I agree to the proposal.”

All eyes turned to Levy on the other end of the table and she straightened her back, nodding dutifully. “Yes, me too. For Fiore.”

“For Fiore”, the king agreed.

“Then you will need to appoint someone new as chair”, Fabrizio pointed out and he nodded.

“Ideas?”

Levy had suspected the blonde would agree to it. He was smart enough to listen to his advisers and this was clearly the most logical course of action. Thus, she had made a quick analysis of the staffing situation already.

“Darton would be a good pick, but then you would be left without an archmage which is problematic. Freed is in my understanding well educated too and could take over, but then you probably have to promote Evergreen and find a new castle guard master. I would have some suggestions for that. Fabrizio as priest cannot take on this role, even if I have no doubts he would have performed well.”

“You humble me, Chair”, the priest smiled.

“I do not oppose to being made Chair, but I do think you ought to find a replacement for my current position first, as the Lady Levy suggests, and that will not be easy. Or, of course, promote Your Grace Justine a second time in this short time period”, Darton gave his opinion on the matter.

Michello cleared his throat, catching the attention of the gathered round. “If I may point out, I have served The Crown dutifully for many years. I was the first choice for the position under E. Fiore's rule, before The Years of Chaos even began, and I have no doubt been of great value to the Dreyar family as well. With all due respect to the Archmage and High Constable, I do believe I can fill that position better.”

While Laxus could see the historian make for a brilliantly sharp minded and pragmatic Chair, he could not allow this. “I am sorry Michello, but that won't be possible. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. No former councillor will sit at The Table.”

The elder grumbled a little at that statement. “If my memory serves me right, it was Jessalyn Freeheart together with her sister the traitor Rose that forced this restriction upon you. Is that truly what you decree, even after everything that has happened?”

“It is”, the king declared and he sighed. He didn't seem the least bit surprised, just disappointed.

“Very well. I do not like it, but I bow to the will of my king. I guess this is as good a time as any to resign. I am old and tired, and if I cannot do what I worked for my entire life, then I want to at least spend these last years in peace and not on the sidelines of this round.”

“I understand. I am truly sorry to take this away from you, but my word is final”, Laxus made an effort to explain himself.

“I respect a man with honour”, the elder nodded.

Rising from his seat, he bowed his head and stalked out of the chambers.

  


The historian left the capital that very same day, handing over his notebook to Levy and requesting she mention him in her version of events. Promising the elder his memory would be eternalized on paper, she was a little sad to see him take off.

It wouldn't get easier to plough through the paperwork without him there. Even if it soon wouldn't be her responsibility alone any more, she would have to motivate a few of the scholars to cultivate an interest in these mundane tasks if the ledges were to keep holding the standard Michello had set.

Sighing deeply, she went to bed.

Gajeel joined her as any night, cuddling down with her on the broad bed. His warmth was comforting in these turbulent times. Levy held him close, but didn't allow his hands to wander. She was now promised to another. Their wedding would be scheduled soon, to allow as little disturbance to the kingdom as possible. She couldn't let anything get in the way of that, not even Gajeel.

Stilling entirely, he sighed against her skin. “I think you're doing the right thing. I might not like it, but it is better this way.”

Levy smiled tiredly. She knew he didn't just not like it. He hated it, loathed the very idea of her being with someone else. That only made her admire his loyalty even more. Who would do that, stay by someone's side despite this kind of deal being made? It wasn't fair on him, they both knew that, and yet he stayed.

“Thank you Gajeel. I'm glad you agree.”

The knight stroked a strand of hair out of her face.

“I said it back when you became the chair, didn't I? You ought to be the queen.”

“Silly.”

  



	20. Freed Justine, The Dark

Levy shifted a little as she sat down behind her desk. Even after several weeks, the fine new dresses were still uncomfortable to her. It would take a lot of time to get used to this kind of attire, but she was a proper lady now, fiancé to the king himself.

Freed gave an amused smile where he stood, looking around the books overflowing room curiously. Of course her study would look like this. It was too fitting, almost comical.

“What can I do for you, Your Grace? Any information you will need for your promotion will be in the books”, the bluenette said and he shook his head. While he was trying to enter his coming role as Chair properly prepared, today, he wasn't here about work. At least not in the traditional sense.

“Bickslow informed me that you have been in the archives a lot lately, arriving with parchment and then leaving it behind. I was a little curious. I must say, your research on branding is very fascinating.”

The small woman sighed. Now she knew why he had insisted to speak with her privately, had demanded even Gajeel leave the room.

“No one was supposed to see it.”

“And I understand why”, Freed nodded. It was dangerous work. She had written it down in that lonely chamber for good reason. For him however, it was of great relevance.

“How did you even find the archive, no less enter it?”, Levy wondered sceptically.

“Bickslow.”

“That is not really an explanation to how you managed to enter. The puzzle is new for each time”, The Chair insisted.

“I too have studied runes in my days, even if I cannot feel them the way you do.”

Levy was surprised to hear this. She had noticed that he was well read, able to understand simple writing as well as mathematical formulas, but to think the man had studied quite that intricate subjects. It made her wonder yet again just where he came from.

“You studied runes?”

The green haired man nodded. He did not disclose more about his past, however. He never did, no matter how much she prodded.

“Either way”, he continued instead. “I have come to offer a trade. I want you to do another experiment and in return I will give you an essential part of information to truly understanding the origin of magical runes.”

“What kind of experiment?”

He shook his head. “Swear to it.”

“I swear, I will perform your experiment as long as it does not involve harming another human being.”

“There will be a willing test subject”, Freed ensured and she nodded her agreement.

“Fine, as long as this information truly is as essential as you say.”

The High Constable reached into his pocket and produced a sheet of paper, handing it over ceremoniously. Levy unfolded it and flattened it out on the table. On it, 13 runes she had never seen before were written, each one a word. The magic they held was raw, far more so than even that of the scholar runes.

Soul.

Life.

Death.

Water.

Fire.

Earth.

Air.

Nourish.

Quench.

Dark.

Light.

Wrong.

Right.

“Where did you get these?”, she asked astounded, but the high constable ignored the question and went on instead.

“These are the original runes. They are the first symbols that were woven out of magic by the deities themselves and handed down to the humans. It was when the mages of ancient times realised that forming entire sentences allowed for far more variety that the modern scholar runes were forged. If you want to truly understand the magic of the written word, of those runes, then these thirteen are your baseline.”

Levy was in awe. The longer she looked, the more the runes spoke to her, blossoming up and revealing their entire and true meaning.

“I want you to brand me with one of these”, Feed stated and her head snapped back up.

“What?”, she asked baffled. If he had read her research, then he ought to know that was a terribly bad idea.

“This one”, he pointed out calmly, tapping his index finger on the fourth from the bottom.

“We don't know what that would do to you. That is literally a dark rune”, Levy protested.

“It is not”, Freed stated confidently.

He unsheathed his slender sword and placed it on the table between them. Carefully unwrapping the cloth band that covered the hilt, he revealed to her what made this particular blade so valuable. Into the leather surface, the ancient rune 'Dark' had been carved.

“It is not a dark rune in the same sense as the modern scholar runes. This form of dark hasn't been corrupted by any association to evil nor greed. It's meaning is closer to...”, he began.

“Strength”, Levy mumbled in understanding. She shook her head. “No, 'precision'”, she corrected herself as the rune came clean to her, speaking its mind fully as she ran her fingers over it.

The green haired man watched as the sign glowed under her hand, responding to her like it never had to him. She really was something else. This is what he needed. He knew it was.

“With this sword I have precision beyond what is humanly possible. I need that to be more than just my blade. I need to see better in order to wield it properly.”

The hazel eyes found his and Levy frowned, questioning, “Why? It is dangerous. As I said, we don't know what will happen.”

“I know, but I am willing to take that risk. Bickslow explained to me how the intruder managed to enter the king's chambers. He must have passed me by on my way to the throne room. I was right beside him, yet I didn't see him. I have failed my king and liege as well as my friend and saviour. I cannot allow anything of the sort to happen again. I need to be able to see with precision. I trust in the nature of magic and in you as its messenger.”

Levy opened her mouth, inhaling, but before she could get a word out, he shook his head. “No. I know what you are going to say, but an experiment on a rat won't tell us what really can be accomplished by human branding. See it as a rare opportunity to study the real thing.”

The bluenette closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair in an anxious movement. “I still don't like it, but I promised.”

“Thank you, My Lady”, Freed said, bowing his head lightly. He was glad she kept to her word despite his, granted, somewhat mean trick. Luring her with this kind of thing wasn't entirely fair, but it worked at least.

Levy prepared for the brand meticulously. She copied the rune down on paper many times, making sure she truly captured it in its entirety. These things usually took a long time to learn, to truly create a complete rune, but with her natural connection to the written, her eye for it, her copy worked very well at once. Freed couldn't write this rune on his own even after years of familiarity.

There would of course be a bit of her in the finished rune. There was always an influence of the caster in magic. These runes had been written down by a purist, so clean and perfect in craftsmanship. She was more of a feeler. Her runes always had more energy to them. They were more vibrant. Even as non-mage, he could tell that much at least.

Taking a deep breath, she finally looked up and he steeled himself for what was to come. Kneeling down so his head was at a comfortable height for her to work, he closed his eyes and waited.

Levy flexed her hand and cleared her mind. She couldn't allow herself to feel uneasy as she did this. It would corrupt the rune and do who knows what kind of damage. Gathering every piece of confidence she possessed, she stilled her worry. Finally feeling calm enough, she took a hold of his chin and angled his head up, copying the rune onto his eyelid with steady hand and a lot of care.

It settled calmly, forming a black patch that slowly sunk into his skin. Taking a step back, Levy watched wearily as the high constable's eye began to swell and redden, his face contorting. He grunted in pain and she clenched her hand. She had expected as much. It was awful to watch, but this time she wasn't going to avert her eyes. She would observe everything, see exactly what happened, how the magic developed, fused with the swordsman.

“Are you aright?”, she asked, knowing very well that he wasn't.

The man shook his head. He clenched his teeth before bringing a hand up to his face and hissing as he tried to stay calm. It didn't last long. Soon, he was lying on the ground, twisting and screaming in pain as blood ran from his eye.

Gajeel as well as two other castle guards stormed in as they heard the call. They stopped dead, shocked to find The Chair standing above their high constable. She held up a hand and ordered firmly, “Get the healers. At once.”

Her champion came to her side, giving her a questioning look, but she was focused on the scene before her. She could sense how the rune finally settled in the swordsman's corona, deciding it had sunk in deep enough, finding the place where it belonged.

Not two minutes later, Laxus had heard the news as well and stormed to his friend. He entered the small chamber wide eyed, demanding angrily, “What is going on?!”

“An experiment that worked”, Levy sighed.

She had known this would be a bad idea. Had it not been such an intelligent and determined man that had asked, she wouldn't have done it, but Freed knew exactly what he had signed up for.

When the man finally stilled, drawing greedy breaths as he fought the shock, Wendy and Sherria checked on his eye. His eyelid had been severely damaged when the writing sunk through it and they did their best to treat the injury.

“It looks like a burn, but it is far too local. What happened?”, Sherria asked and the bluenette repeated, “An experiment.”

She knelt down and had the heavily breathing man look back at her. The eye itself was blood drenched, but Levy saw that it had darkened underneath, the entirety of it black as ink, the rune shining through in a bright lilac. It wasn't her colour of magic. The rune had not just fused with him, it had become his.

Fascinated with the result, she was surprised as Laxus took her arm and dragged her out of the room. Gajeel raised up at once, but she motioned him to stay. It was admirable that he was willing to go even against the king himself if need be to protect her, but right now his interference would not do any good.

Following her future husband into the next best silent corner, she waited for the inevitable. While he kept a surprisingly calm appearance most days, this kind of shock surely didn't help right now, after everything that had happened. That was his friend lying on the ground in her study, bleeding onto the floor.

She couldn't deny, she was feeling just a little guilty. She could have been a little smarter about her deal with the swordsman, could have refused his demand, could have simply turned him away to begin with. There was a lot she could have done differently, but in all honesty, she too had wanted to see what would happen. That sort of curiosity wasn't always healthy. She knew that, and still…

“What did you do to him?!”, Laxus demanded.

“I branded him.”

“What?”, the blonde frowned.

“I inscribed a rune into his eye.”

“Why?!”

“Because he asked me to. He made me promise”

The king rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Why, by all the gods, would he do something like that?”

“Because he wants to serve you better of course.”

Laxus sighed deeply and growled, “What an idiot.”

“It seems that is a common trait with your type, fighters with a conviction that goes beyond anything rational. All do you reason this way, willing to endure pain, injury or even death without question.”

The blonde couldn't help the tiny smirk that crept onto his face at that indirect insult. He knew what she meant, though. Had it been him, he would have done the exact same thing. He still didn't like it, but he understood it.

“What does that rune do exactly?”, he wondered.

“I'm not quite sure yet, but it should give him enhanced vision, a more precise sense, and perhaps even more than that. We'll find out over time. The rune I used is 'Dark'. It is on his sword as well.”

Laxus nodded a little in understanding. “Yea. I held it once. It is a very impressive enchantment. Lets just pray this does no evil to him.”

“It shouldn't”, Levy shrugged. But she too hoped that 'should' would hold the test of time. She hoped her understanding of 'Dark' hadn't corrupted the rune.

One more thing she would have to check was his sense for magic. Gajeel truly could sense magic to a certain degree nowadays. He could tell if an item held magic in itself, but not much more than that. He couldn't sense its type, direction, age, anything specific about it. The rune on him however was still hers, was still her magic. The rune on Freed wasn't, so she wondered.

“Would you excuse me, Your Highness?”, she urged and he motioned her free to leave.

Watching Levy walk back to her desk and start scribbling down her observations while the two young healers monitored the swordsman's eye, Laxus grumbled a little.

Instead of standing by, he went to the Archmage's quarters for advise.

Knocking, he respectfully waited for Arcadios to open the door for him and entered the equally messy and paper riddled workspace of the elder.

Darton sat in a broad and comfortable looking armchair, a pair of red reading glasses perched on his nose and a positively ancient looking tome open in his lap which he seemed to read with all the calm in the world, but incredible haste at the same time.

Before Laxus could even state his business, the man said, “The High Constable should be fine. Levy is an expert in her field.” Licking his thumb, he turned the page as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Trying to avert his eyes from the mind-boggling sight of pages flying by while lying equally still before the mage, the blonde asked, “You heard already?”

“Merely an educated guess”, Darton responded casually.

The elder finally looked up at him and gave a sympathetic smile, motioning to the second armchair beside him, one that surely Arcadios usually sat in when there was no visitor to upkeep appearances for. Laxus did as he was requested, taking a seat and waiting for the Archmage to speak his mind.

“He came to me this morning, looking for a cure.”

“A cure to what?”, the king asked and yet another warm smile pulled at the elder's mouth.

“Your pain”, he answered softly.

“He has noticed that my magic involves the manipulation of time, but sadly, it does not enable me to put back together anything that once contained a soul. I know, for I have tried. The riots that brought down Hedera also brought death to the man I once called father. Aware of my talents, I went looking for a way to bring him back, to reverse what happened, but magic sadly doesn't work that way. The best I could manage was to slow time down to a crawl, but to make it run backwards, or even stop it for a soul-bound being is simply not possible”, he elaborated.

Laxus sat silent. To think Freed went looking for this sort of thing. He shook his head ever so lightly.

Darton smiled a little at the reaction. It seemed their king had the sense to know that much, that there was no force in this world that could reverse death, and the strength to accept that. It was more than he could claim.

“You can count yourself lucky to have such a loyal and selfless friend.”

“Yea”, the blonde murmured.

“I could sense that he had a scroll of ancient magic on him, and when he didn't give it to me, I took it for granted that your future wife was the intended recipient. What fool would bring an item of such significance to a scholar without asking something in recompense?”

“But you think he will be fine?”, Laxus asked. Otherwise, Darton would have stopped this from happening, wouldn't he?

“I am confident. This is not the first time a magical mark has been inscribed into a human, not the first time Levy did it either for that matter. Her big dark shadow has a mark on his neck. It was an accident of course, but a very interesting one.”

“Her champion?”

The archmage nodded. “It badly scared the young woman when he fell to the ground, so much even that she allowed a dark curse to fester in her soul for a few brief moments, but I think you had better ask her about this in person if you are looking for details. Let me warn you, though, it is a touchy subject. Hurting those that we love is hard to forget and even harder to forgive ourselves for.”

He gave the king a meaning look as he ended his sentence.

Laxus just nodded a little. That, he knew all too well. It didn't even have to be your own fault for it to nag at you.

He wouldn't ask Levy about this. He had little use for the information either way. He had no desire to poke in the bluenette's discomfort with whatever had happened if it didn't earn them something substantial.

  



	21. Levy Dreyar, The Queen of Fiore

After seeing the king rather roughly tugging Levy away for a word, Gajeel was determined to have a little talk of his own. Granted, the blonde had been shocked at the scene before him, but that wasn't reason enough, not in Gajeel's eyes. In fact, nothing could ever be enough reason for anyone to disrespect his liege. Just because she accepted it didn't mean he did.

Being forced to wait outside the king's chambers for a while, he was finally allowed in by the guards. Laxus had already changed into nightgowns, looking far more down to earth in the simpler cloth, without any crown in his hair.

Waving the guards away, he motioned Gajeel to take a chair in the sitting room as well and the knight flopped down on the opposite end of the oblong table.

“I take it this is about Lady Levy?”, Laxus began.

The Dark Steel Knight nodded and he exhaled deeply before meeting the dark red eyes of his fiancé’s champion. Whatever the man had on his mind, he didn't look to be in a particularly good mood.

“Then lets not speak as king and knight, but personally, a word between two men.”

“Sounds good”, Gajeel agreed. 

The blonde leaned back, making a vague gesture toward him and prompting, “I'm listening.”

“The way you treated Levy today is unacceptable”, the dark haired man began. “No one, and I mean absolutely no one disrespects my shrimp like that. Touch her with force again and you will regret it”, he declared sternly.

“Threatening a king?”, Laxus challenged.

“Your crown doesn't make you immortal. She is a mage, a force of nature. You on the other hand are but a man. Even if you weren't, if you were a celestial being, hell, a god incarnated, it would not save you from me. Hurt her and I hurt you. If it so damns me to the void, I won't let it stand.”

The blonde sat silent for a long moment. No one in their right mind would threaten a king in his own chambers, no less for something so simple. The knight was more than just a guard, wasn't he? Laxus had heard from his trusty Shadow Master that Levy and her champion were far closer than normal, that he had kissed her on the forehead when she was in distress, that he spent nights not outside, but in her chambers to watch over and protect her. When Darton said Levy had hurt someone she loved, he had meant this, had he not? They were lovers.

It did come as a bit of a surprise. Gajeel hadn't outright admitted to it with his words, but the way he spoke made it clear nonetheless, whether he realised that or not. Laxus guessed that he did. In fact, he guessed the man had intended as much, so he would know the knight was dead serious with his warning.

Having respect for the dedication and loyalty this man showed to the bluenette by going this far over a few seconds and an unintentionally rough hand, Laxus elected not to return the threat.

“I have no intentions of hurting her. She is my family now and I will do everything in my power to protect her”, he said instead and got a satisfied huff in return.

“Damn right you will.”

Gajeel got back up without waiting to be excused. “Take care of my little shrimp”, he demanded.

“And you, protect my future wife with your life.”

“I always will, until the last breath”, the Dark Steel Knight clarified before turning and leaving.

Laxus sat awake for a long while, looking out through the wide windows, watching the street lanterns being lit in the city beneath. He would have to talk with his fiancé about this soon.

  


Taking the opportunity the next day when Levy sat in her favourite gazebo with a book in hand, Laxus motioned his guards to stay by the doors and strode over on his own. His fiancé was completely emerged in her reading and didn't notice his approach until he stood but a few feet from her and audibly cleared his throat.

Placing a bookmark between the pages, she closed the tome and looked up. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“We need to talk. Alone.”

Gajeel's eyes slimmed a little, but after a sign from his liege, he obediently left them. Walking away a bit, he turned to them, watching from across the garden with eagle eyes.

Laxus took a seat opposite the bluenette, sweeping his coat aside as not to sit on it. It was an important symbol after all, especially since she had been the one to give it to him. Even now, it was still a little odd to him to have to watch his mannerism so closely, but he was slowly getting used to it. It came more naturally now than when he first sat down on the throne, and he had no doubt it would get easier still in due time.

Levy seemed to have adapted far quicker, sitting elegantly in her fine dress despite the novelty of being required to wear it. Only a few weeks ago, she had been sitting comfortably in wide simple scholar robes and now she carried herself like any born Lady.

From the gossip Bickslow had brought to him from the maids and other staff, he knew that she had taken her shift in role very seriously. She had mindfully practised stride and posture for about three days, having a manual open before her at all times as she corrected her stance.

There was one thing she didn't change, though. She still wore the same simple headband she had since she was fifteen. It was very colourful, orange with pink aster's stitched onto it. He guessed it had sentimental value. The décor hinted a connection to her home town, so he refrained from asking.

Not eager to awkwardly beat around the bush and drag this out further than he had to, he instantly got to the point.

“You are in love, aren't you?”

Levy looked back at the king in silence. If he asked, he had to already know the answer. Exactly how he found out, she had no idea, but it didn't really matter either.

“Why did you agree to this?”, he wondered.

“Because it is important. Michello is right. This is optimal for Fiore”, the bluenette shrugged.

“I really don't think you should marry me if you have someone else”, Laxus tried and a small smile formed on her lips.

“I hope you know that those words won't persuade me.”

The king huffed a laugh at that response. “No. I know the stubborn nature of you Freehearts all too well by now”, he sighed.

“Good”, Levy simply stated before picking her book back up. Raising a hand, the king motioned he wasn't done and she gave him another attentive look.

“I really don't want to be like that, but...”, he began. “You cannot have another besides me. The child has to be a direct heir to me. I read about it in...”

The bluenette chuckled a little at his rather uncharacteristic and frankly awkward facial expression as he said it. “I know that. I am the one that put that book on your reading list, remember? I will be true to you, don't worry, My King”, she ensured him.

Feeling almost a little stupid, the monarch nodded. It wasn't a rare feeling for anyone to have around this young woman. “Right. It's just that I would have understood the temptation. We are only a practical union after all”, he all but apologised.

“Yes, but I am also a very practical woman.”

“I don't doubt that”, Laxus smiled. He rose and bowed his head lightly before walking away. Keeping his head straight, he only saw from the corner of his eyes how the Dark Steel Knight returned to his liege's side, but he had no doubt the red eyes were looking daggers at his back.

  


As the wedding day drew closer, Freed Justine was officially named chair and Evergreen the High Constable in his stead. To fill the position of Mercurius Guard Master, Levy decided to reach down, past any hopeful generals, and promote a simple soldier. She called out Azuma, the man that had volunteered his time to train Kinana. After the effort, both her and Bickslow had paid the man a great deal more attention. He was smart, young, strong, and evidently kind. With no little amount of surprise, the man knelt down before his sovereign to be named.

While everyone else was busy familiarising themselves with their new positions, Levy had a hard time letting go of her duties as chair. She was only going to be a lady without place at The Table for a few days, until she was married and had a higher standing than even before, but it itched in her to keep working at her projects.

The only thing taking her mind off it were the wedding preparations. The choice of gown, food, flowers, it was all hers to make. Laxus had had his dream wedding already. He didn't care. Levy couldn't claim she did either, but there were appearances to upkeep. She couldn't wait until it was all over and she would be able to work in peace.

The Fairy Tail Guard had their hands full in the east, trying to protect the workers of Akane, but their absence did not bother Laxus particularly. It didn't feel like a proper celebration either way, not to him.

Levy didn't have anyone to call family that she could have invited. She just had Gajeel, and he would be there, would lead her into the throne room and hand her over. Surely, it hurt for him to have to do this. She had offered to get someone else to play this role, but he insisted. “If anyone gets to hold your arm, walking down the isle, it's me”, he claimed, despite it all.

Two maids were holding folds in her dress for Kinana to swiftly fasten. Even though she was more guard than seamstress these days, she had offered her help on this special occasion. In contrast to the festive dress she was adjusting, she was in anonymous black cloth just as the rest of her troop. They would watch over the event from the shadows.

Looking back at her reflection in the mirror, Levy sighed. It was the second time in her life that she had help getting dressed. The first had been before the battle of Mercurius, before she rode out to set the gates ablaze. Rose had helped her get into full armour back then.

“I wish Rose would be here.”

Gajeel gave her a sympathetic smile from his position by the door. He knew the hot headed arbalist meant a lot to Levy. She had always been there, looking out for the younger woman, caring and making sure she was safe.

“Yea, me too”, he grumbled. He did, despite their lack of non-threatening interactions.

Kinana stood and gave a satisfied nod, ruffling the cloth a little to make sure it would fall as she had intended. “Good to go.”

Turning around, Levy faced her champion, her lover whom she would disappoint so greatly today. Holding her hands out to the sides, she asked, “How do I look?”

“Like a queen.”

The silence that followed his endorsement was an awkward one. There really was no air of celebration, no joy to this event for them. It was a sad excuse for a wedding.

Picking her headband from the table, Levy bound it around her wrist and hid it under the long sleeves of the fine gown. She tired not to meet Gajeel's eyes in the mirror as she did, instead focusing on her hair, making sure it lay neatly for once. She would have to be crowned after all.

Time seemed to crawl by until the ceremony commenced and it almost stopped entirely when she walked into the throne room, her head held high despite the stone in her stomach. When she let go of her champion and took the last steps up to stand beside The King, there was no doubt in her mind. This was the right thing to do. It hurt, but it was right.

When Fabrizio cleared his throat, time resumed in a snap and before she knew it, Levy was facing the blond man. The look of his face was stoic, like he had disconnected from reality for the time being. Crowned and blessed, Levy finally took his hand and walked out onto the balcony with him.

At least the commoners and soldiers that had gathered in the castle square seemed to be in good spirits. The applaud was loud and cheers were called up to them with great enthusiasm. Laxus squeezed her hand a little and she looked up to realise he was holding his other hand up, waving out. Mimicking it, Levy forced a smile to her lips. 'Appearances', she reminded herself.

It surprised her how exhausted she felt once they turned back to the interior. It shouldn't be this strenuous. She had walked but a few steps, had only stood silent and gone along with the event. Yet, she was incredibly relieved to be able to take a seat in the second hall and rest while the grand feast commenced. It made no sense.

The guests of honour, the city lords, generals and other nobles sitting around the long tables were in a festive mood. There was entertainment, food in plenty, and enough wine to satisfy even the most seasoned drinkers. Levy couldn't really take it in as well as she had thought she would, but she made an effort at least, watching the performances and listening to the songs.

Laxus on the other hand still hadn't bothered resurfacing from his zombielike state. A strange mixture of anxiety and indifference filled his head. The wine he was served did everything but help. It was a good selection from Heather. He could tell. He had indulged profusely in their beverages for a few days back when he visited the famous western city with the Freeheart Army.

It was under the influence of this fine alcohol that he had first laid hand upon the former leader of his army. It hadn't been that long ago, but now she was gone. There simply had to be something wrong with him. Who lost two women in as many years?

His eyes found the small bluenette now sitting at his side. Levy looked amazing in the ceremonial crown and fine gown. It was the first time he truly looked, saw that the little girl that had impressed him so with her knowledge all those years ago was now a full grown and beautiful woman.

The way he was brought up, he had learned to never let any harm come to a woman, a lady that didn't wear armour, didn't wield a sword or aimed bow and arrow. With everything that had happened, he honestly feared for her safety. The strong willed and clever mage suddenly seemed so very fragile.

Emptying his cup, he swallowed hard. It was too bad he couldn't allow himself to get completely drunken. Tomorrow, he still had to be fit enough to hear out all the messengers that came to congratulate, bring gifts, and elaborate on how very much the noble sending them cared about all of this.

When the evening turned into night and the official entertainment was over, Levy gave him a slight nudge, inaudibly urging him to excuse them. Relieved to have an excuse, he stood and cleared his throat. Everyone fell silent, smiling in their direction like it was the dawning of a new day. He hated this part.

He had enjoyed it when it was with Mirajane, the love of his life. Standing here, holding a little speech about how brilliant the evening had been, about how pleased he was with the event, he had been so happy he had kissed her right there and then, in front of all of them. The blush that spread over her cheeks was so cute. Reminded of it, his heart felt even heavier in his chest.

Now, it felt like he was speaking of a party he hadn't even attended, a wedding that wasn't his. Simply repeating what he had said last time, he half-heartedly thanked everyone and encouraged them to enjoy the rest of the night before taking his wife's hand and leading the way.

The cheers that followed them out into the hallway quickly died down again, the lords and ladies refocusing on the feast. The newly-weds could hear their steps echo along the corridors, followed by the loud metal boots of their guards. The walk upstairs and into the king's chambers on the east side of the castle was an otherwise silent and awfully awkward one.

Once alone with the bluenette, Laxus was just a little surprised how calmly she walked into their shared bedroom, pulling at the strings that formed her dress around her waist. Peeling out of the gown, she let it pool around her legs and shot him an expectant look over her shoulder.

Sighing deeply, he came to The Queen's side. He picked the crown off her head. It was rather astounding how well she wore the heavy ornament despite her small statue. Her practice had paid off. Setting it and his own aside in the silk clad cabinet, he lingered for a moment.

He was nervous all of a sudden, dead nervous. He couldn't quite put his finger on just why that was.

Finally turning back around, he saw that Levy had shed the rest of her clothes, waiting for him to make his move and consummate the marriage. There was an odd mixture of confidence and insecurity in her stance, her body gesturing hesitance but her eyes speaking determination.

Walking over, he stroked a strand of her hair back and she tensed. She looked almost scared, now avoiding his gaze.

“Are you aright?”, he wondered and the bluenette nodded. She walked over to the bed, lying down almost demonstratively, waiting.

Never had he felt this odd before having intercourse with someone. Shaking it off, he started undressing. This was the reason she had married him to begin with. He was supposed to get her pregnant.

Joining her, he saw the hazel eyes wander down his body worriedly. Leaning down slowly, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips in an effort to chase her discomfort away. He may look a bit mean, but he wasn't going to hurt her.

When she still didn't relax, he gave her a questioning look and Levy huffed a frustrated little laugh. “I thought this would be easier”, she admitted.

“We don't have to, you know. It's not like anyone will have the audacity to ask”, Laxus suggested, but she shook her head.

“Yea we do. This is literally why we are even here. Putting it off won't help. I am just a little tense. Don't worry about it.”

The king grumbled a little. He knew what had happened when the bluenette was still a child, was a captive of Phantom Lord. She had told him about it when they stayed in Heather. It was only natural that she still feared this kind of contact. She clearly wasn't about to let that stop her, though.

Aiming to ease her into it, he brought his lips down on her neck, softly letting a hand slide down her side, caressing over her skin.

Levy closer her eyes at the caring touch, the warm lips on her. It felt almost wrong to enjoy this. Gajeel was the only one she had ever allowed to do something like this, to touch her this way. Laxus's hand slid between her legs and she caught a hold of his arm.

“Don't. It's just about having a child.”

“I can't accept that”, he protested.

Whatever shame or fear she felt, he wouldn't just ignore it and have his way. He couldn't do that, especially not to his own family. No matter how much he wished that everything had gone differently, husband and wife was what they were now.

“We're just a practical union”, Levy stated, sounding slightly annoyed, but that wasn't the point.

“That doesn't mean we can't look out for each other.”

Levy met the man's orange eyes. Of course it didn't. She was being foolish. This was her husband. It was him she shouldn't cheat on. He had lost his love. Expecting him to distance himself from her because she still had hers wasn't fair. Making up her mind, she leaned up, kissing him properly.

Letting the blonde ease her mind in the best way he knew, Levy relaxed under his hands. She didn't worry when he climbed between her legs, when he close in. Holding onto his shoulders, she let him. It was somewhat surreal, lying there, feeling so oddly detached while hearing him breathe deeply, while feeling him move.

Once Laxus stilled, she let go of him, but it took a while before he let go in turn. Once he did, he turned from her and she heard his breath hitch. Sitting up, she shifted to his side and saw a tear run down his cheek. It hadn't even occurred to her that the stoic man knew how to cry.

Taking a measured breath, Laxus tried to control his voice as he mumbled a small, “I'm sorry. I know it's unfitting.”

“Don't say that. It's okay to cry, even for a king”, she whispered softly. “I don't expect to replace Mirajane and I hope you didn't think that I could either.”

The king shook his head lightly at those words. No indeed. No one could ever do that. He didn't even want anyone to ever be able to. It just hurt so damn much to be forced to move on. In a way, it hurt that he was able to, that he had actually managed to consummate his second marriage with such ease.

Urging him back down, Levy tossed a blanket over him and lay down at his side, running a hand through his hair soothingly until he finally fell asleep.

Watching the king's breathing even out, Levy couldn't help but smile a little. Who would have thought a little girl from a farm in Aster would end up here, as The Queen of Fiore. It was nothing like the fairy tales, a prince falling in love with a commoner, true love's kiss and the perfect happily ever after. It was a hurt king and a pragmatic mage, a kiss of guilt and the saddest wedding this castle had probably ever seen.

At least she would be able to build now. No more delays. It was time.

 


	22. Daemons in the Depths

In her new position, Levy didn't hesitate to take the reins, more often than not speaking for Laxus even when he was in the room. He never made any attempt to stop her, so she kept extending her control, taking over almost entirely.

Even if she sat beside him rather than on the throne itself, she was the one that spoke to most of their visitors. Only when a topic didn't interest her or a conversation was merely about appearances did she look to him for answers.

Laxus didn't mind this new development much. He desperately needed the peace of mind. What annoyed him was the fact that he couldn't simply walk away and let her handle it. Some days he really wondered if him taking the throne had been such a wise move, but he reminded himself that the choice had less to do with his person than with his heritage.

Only about a year had he truly ruled. Now he was again leaving command to another, to someone smarter. It was ludicrous that the strongest fighter rather than the smartest mind was the one that gained most power in this world. He could meet any soldier in battle, but he would be hopeless as sovereign if it wasn't for all his advisers, and especially Levy.

Listening half-heartedly to the conversation she had with the smith Eucliffe, he took a deep breath. It wasn't too bad. He did important work and mostly good had come off it so far. Their country was united again. There were guards. There was a relative calm. All that was because he was strong enough to hold his position. No one dared challenge him. It was imperative. Perhaps his doubts had more to do with recent events than with him. All good kings relied on their advisers, did they not?

He was brought out of his thoughts as Arcadios entered the throne room. Darton was looking to have a word with them.

After bidding the weapon-smith farewell, the king and queen headed for the Archmage's study. The elder's champion insisted they leave their guards outside. It didn't go past Laxus how Gajeel clenched his jaw at the order. The man must find it hard to endure, being left out like this so often despite his close connection to The Queen. He couldn't imagine living like that.

The former Phantom was definitively no rat as he had so often been refereed to in the past. He was honour bound and loyal beyond any reason. He was glad to have knighted the man. With the Dark Steel Knight at his wife's side, he rarely felt worried.

Entering the peculiar study once more, Laxus gave a disgruntled huff. The air was thick with a smell of decay. The usually calming note of paper and ink was barely noticeable against the stench. Holding a hand before his nose, he contemplated turning around, but there was one thing that enticed him to stay in the miasma. Despite the reek, there was a warm and welcoming atmosphere spreading in the room, not much different from to the blessing of Fabrizio. Whatever smelled so bad was probably of a celestial nature.

“What the hell is that?”, he wondered and Darton grinned back at him from behind the heavy desk. He motioned before himself, beckoning the king and queen closer.

Reluctantly walking toward the smell, Laxus saw that an old scroll lay open before the mage. The casing was broken, finely carved wood and what looked like old leather, rotting away. Flies swarmed to it, attracted by the decay. The paper itself was intact, surely protected by some form of magic, as so many ancient writings. He could see that there were some form of runes written on it in a beautiful calligraphy, but there was no way he would be able to understand it. Darton seemed very excited about whatever it said.

“I found out a little something about that magic in the catacombs”, the elder began, gesturing generously over the text with his hands as though it were a collection of beautiful gemstones.

“It is an old legend, one most have forgotten long ago. That's why I didn't think of it at once!” He tapped against his head and then against the scroll.

“It is said that in ancient times, when beasts and gods fought on Earth Land, a great daemon was defeated here.”

Flattening the paper out haphazardly, he read the ancient scholar runes out loud and Levy's jaw dropped in disbelief. She strode around the table and leaned over the writing to read it her own self. Her eyes went wide in awe as they inspected the runes. Holding a hand out, she gently touched the old paper. She had realised that feeling over text with her fingers enabled her to connect to it even quicker than by merely looking at it.

Laxus raised an eyebrow at the two scholars, both happy like children, but got no reaction. Clearing his throat to get their attention he was slightly amused by the sheepish look on his wife's face, like she had just now realised he couldn't understand any of this.

She motioned to the runes and translated, “Beyond the great central mountains of Fiore Head, the beast… ehrm, could also mean dragon, fell below the earth.” She skipped the flavour text and continued, “Endless passages contain the Dark One's aura as time wears its large mass away.”

“Fiore Head, that's Fiore and parts of Bosco and Seven. Central Mountains, that has to be Crocus Rise then, right?”, Laxus mumbled. “Endless passages, that's the tunnels”, he realised and both scholars nodded excitedly.

“Exactly! The maze has been there since anyone can remember. This is why. This is why it was built. That is how humans managed to create something like that without modern engineering. They had help from the gods themselves”, Levy nodded happily before returning her attention to the runes.

“They probably really do exist”, she mumbled astounded.

The King didn't see why they were happy about this at all. “By the gods! You mean to say that there is an ancient daemon sleeping under the capital?”, he asked appalled.

“Not sleeping, dying. And it might be a dragon, actually. We don't know”, Darton clarified. “That is the Dark One's curse. The daemon, or dragon, is dying, its magic leaking from it in an aura that fades ever so slowly over thousands and thousands of years.”

“Well, what do we do about it?”, the blonde asked and he shrugged. “Nothing. Except perhaps try to keep it secret as not to worry anyone. I will lock this scroll into the archive again where only the highest ranking members of The Scholarship of The Crown can find it.”

Levy nodded in agreement. “It's not really a problem. There is no reason it ought to rise. This is of no concern to us. It is just a fascinating discovery.” Looking up, she added, “Although, I suggest you tell your rogue not to venture too far down, that it could be dangerous.”

The King frowned. “Bickslow?”

“Yea. Didn't you know? He's been doing a little exploring down in the tunnels. Serena spotted him at one point. I assumed it was on your command.”

“It wasn't. Either way, I will make sure to warn him.”

Feeling somewhat out of place when his wife ignored him in in favour of studying the ancient writing, he excused himself and instead sought for his elusive Shadow Master. Asking the guards to look around for the rogue, he got the word out and, as expected, it was Bickslow that found him in the end, jumping from who knows where down to him as he walked along the corridors.

“Yes My King?”

Taking a walk in the gardens with his friend, Laxus told him about the scroll that Darton had found. Bickslow nodded, an unusually focused air about him. He clearly took the warning seriously, but didn't like it. It itched in him to go have a look at the real thing. Laxus knew him well enough to know that much, and he also knew how pointless it would be to make it an order. While loyal at heart, the man had never been big on direct orders.

“I'm serious. Don't”, he sincerely requested instead, something he knew was far more efficient.

Sighing, the rogue crossed his arms behind his back, stretching a little.

“Yea, yea. I won't go down there again. I figured it would be something along those lines.”

“You figured?”

“Yea. The loud growl I told you about? What we heard when I accompanied Darton and Levy down there. I went looking for the source. There is something alive down there. I saw a soul in the depth, and there is a warm air sweeping up from that hole, a breath most likely. When you go down far enough, you can see the bottom in the light of those crystals that light the place. There's an eye, completely white and dead looking, huge as Sciliora. I didn't want to report to you before I knew more because I knew you'd tell me to stop.”

“You were right. Now you know more, so stop.”

Bickslow smiled a little, finding his friend's care endearing, and Laxus shook his head, hoping this would be enough to keep the rogue from adventuring. Clapping the man on the shoulder, he made to leave.

Bickslow took a deep breath and stopped the king.

“There is one other thing.”

He hated this part.

He was the Shadow Master, loyal to the king. He was supposed to collect information and bring it to the blonde, without fail, but could he really rat out his own friend? Their friend?

He knew what Freed had done, what he had paid a maid to do, and it was definitively something Laxus wouldn't take kindly to, but he could also guess why the swordsman had done it, had shocked their king so. He knew it had been done with good intention and he hated the thought that Freed might be punished for tying to help.

Maybe he could feel the blonde out a little before he said anything? If it didn't matter to the king all that much, then all was good and he could let it go with a clear conscience, right?

“Do… How….”, he tried. “Mirajane's dresses… You didn't order the maids to bring them back into your chambers, did you?”

Laxus frowned deeply at the question. Of course he hadn't. Did Bickslow know how that had happened? Was it planned? He thought for a moment. It had angered him, greatly, but he also realised how much it had helped him once he had calmed down. He wouldn't say that he had moved on, he didn't know if he could, but he could at least bear the thought now.

Deciding he didn't want to know, he shrugged, “Of course not, but I didn't order them not to either. It's not that odd a mistake to make.”

Bickslow exhaled slowly. So the king wasn't angry. No reason to say anything then. Relieved not to have to choose between his friends, he just mumbled a small, “I see.”

Bowing respectfully, he left the king's side, shooing his guards back to him instead.

  


Rose had tried to ignore it for a full fifteen minutes now, but the fact that he stood out there began to really annoy her. What the fuck did he want? If he was just a quickly checking on the cells as usual, he would have left long ago. No, he was waiting, probably observing her, that creep. Sighing irritably, she finally spoke up.

“Are you going to stand there forever? You know that staring is disrespectful, right, 'Shadow Master'?”

“Hihi, so you did learn something during our training after all”, Bickslow's voice sniggered.

He showed himself now, stepping up to the door and peeking in through the bars. It didn't make a great deal of difference, his visor hiding his face either way. Looking back at him from the bed, the redhead shook her head.

“Not really, but these halls carry sound very well.”

“It's a pain, honestly. I still haven't quite figured out where I can step without creating an echo. Maybe I should switch to leather boots or even go…”

Bickslow spoke casually, as though there was nothing odd about this situation at all, until he was interrupted by the impatient woman.

“What do you want?”

Inspecting the redhead for a moment, he saw that she wasn't actually annoyed, despite her harsh tone of voice. He could tell. She was trying to act angry still, like she would never let go of her grudge, but she had done so long ago.

Deciding to spite her a little, he shrugged, “Nothing in particular.”

“So you just missed me?”, she mocked with a disbelieving huff.

“Maybe.”

Finally sitting up, she gave him a little smile. It was clear she wanted something. Why else would she make any kind of effort to please him?

“Come on, talk to me. What's going on up there?”

A wide smirk spread over his lips.

“Much more interesting is what’s going on down here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you heard any… hm…” He made a dramatic pause. “Growls?”

“Growls? Not really. Why?”, Rose frowned, weary now.

“Hm, too bad”, he mumbled before walking on.

Rose shot up from her bed and ran to the door, grabbing a hold of the bars.

“Hey, come on! I'm bored stiff!”

She couldn't stand this for much longer. Staring at the grey walls day in and day out was fine for a few months, but by now she found herself running out of imagination. Her thoughts were looping, constantly.

She knew every stone, every tiny dent by heart. She had seen ever crack, counted every grain of dust. There was nothing left to do or discover. She was deprived of meaning, starved for distraction.

She had started pacing, working out even though she had too little energy, just to pass the time, slept far more than could be deemed reasonable, and she ate so very slowly, sorting every pea before bringing it to her mouth just to have something to do.

She had no idea if it was day or night, what day it even was, how long she had been in here now. Time stood still in her cell, in the constant flickering light of the torches hanging in the hallway, and it was driving her nuts. She needed something new, anything at all.

“Should'a thought of that before you attacked the king”, the rogue answered in a sing-song.

“Bickslow! Please!”, she begged and he stopped in his tracks. He turned around with a wide smirk, seeing her fingers clenched around the metal bars so hard her knuckles were going white, her head dropped and a few messy strands peeking out.

“Come again?”

She growled under her breath. Despite everything, he wasn't going to hear her repeat it. She would ask nicely, but not beg a second time. That was still beneath her. Another half year later, maybe. Surely she would reach that point sooner or later, but not yet. She still had some pride.

“You heard me. Please stay. Talk to me.”

“Fine then, if you are so desperate for me, Baby”, he teased and she rolled her eyes. This man was insane, to still flirt with her after everything that had been said and done.

She took a step back as he reached the door again.

Eyeing her shortly, he asked, “What about?”

“Anything. Real or not. Just talk.”

“Too quiet down here, hm?”

“Far too.”

Nodding a little, he thought for a moment.

“It is said that there was a time when Earth Land was inhabited by daemons, not a single human in sight.”

Huffing a laugh, she took a seat and listened. She had heard the creation legend a thousand times before, as everyone had, and she had never believed it, but it didn't really matter what he said, just as long as he talked, gave her some kind of break.

“It is said that during this time, humans lived in another world. Its name is, of course, has been long forgotten, as it always is with these legends”, he jested.

“The humans were created by the gods to be companions, to fill out the vast world they lived in. Together, they shaped a new kind of body, with arms and legs, skin and muscle, lungs and stomach, heart and brain. Each part was going to become the vessel for a gift. Every single god made sure to bestow one one the new race.

Aquarius gave them drink. Taurus gave them strength. Virgo gave them fertility. Cancer showed them how to use a sword. Sagittarius showed them how to shoot an arrow. Aries taught them compassion. Leo gave them a guiding light, a soul. Gemini taught them the art of illusion. Scorpio taught them to fear storms and natural disasters. Capricorn taught them strategy. Libra showed them balance. Pisces fed them. Ophiuchus gave them the gift of mortality.

Humans walked alongside the deities as friends for many years, but before long, they became too numerous and the gods were forced to make a tough decision. They sent the humans to a new world, a world of their own. They promised to keep guiding their little friends from beyond, but they would have to work hard and make a living for themselves now. They had all the gifts they needed to make it, to live happily and safely together.

The daemons of Earth Land did not take kindly to the sudden human invasion, the plague of two-legs. They began devouring these new beings with great appetite. Sworn to protect their creation, the gods went to war and slew every last beast. Some were too powerful, matching their foes, but even they were banished, defeated and sealed away.

Their influence however lingers on Earth Land in the form of sin. Some humans became corrupted, forgot and defied the gifts the gods had left them. Life was taken. Compassion was forgotten. Souls were broken. Balance was ruined. Food and drink were poisoned. Some used the gifts they had been given in the most horrid ways imaginable. Swords. Arrows. Illusion. Fear. Strategy. Even death.

Humans turned into something that was no longer pure and kind, but the gods couldn't bring themselves to put an end to what they had started. These were still their friends, their creation. They believed the humans could figure it out somehow if only they were given the means to manipulate their nature. Together they bestowed one last gift upon Earth Land, that of magic. They touched the world one last time before departing and leaving the humans to fend for themselves.”

That was the traditional story, but he had a little extra paragraph to add for her now. It ought to be enough to preoccupy her for a while.

“Some of the beasts defeated in those ancient times still lie dormant to this day, slowly dying beneath the earth in caverns the gods themselves helped the humans create. To make sure the curses of these beats would never reach the humans dwelling on the surface, the caverns were surrounded by grand systems of tunnels, of a labyrinth so confusing not even magic itself can find its way out.”

Rose watched him wide eyed where he stood outside the door, leaning back against the metal and staring out into the dark tunnels.

He smirked back at her shortly and then walked away, leaving her to ponder weather to believe him or not.

  



	23. A Seith

Bickslow firmed his grip around his tankard, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw began to ache.

Always on the lookout for any information he could possibly get his hands on, he almost compulsively listened in to other people's conversations, almost passively picking up on all gossip wherever he went. Right now, he wished he could turn his ears off somehow, could unhear things.

At the other end of the Northern Gate Inn, three of his shadow guards were talking just a little too loudly, and he couldn't help but take it in.

“The new queen sure got pregnant quickly.”

“She probably just made sure to eat right.”

“Well, that is easier now that the draught is over.”

“As if the former queen would have had any troubles because of the food shortage. Nobles always have more than enough of everything. She was no different.”

Shooting up from his seat, Bickslow threw his tankard in their general direction, the beer splashing out along the way. The metal container hit the wall over their heads with a loud slam before falling to the ground and rolling a bit. The clink of the handle hitting the stone flooring for every turn echoed through the suddenly dead quiet bar.

Everyone was staring at him, hands instinctively edging toward their weapons, and even the old bartender had a firm hold of the pretty shortsword he kept under the bar. Bickslow didn't have to look up to know that much.

The three men he had assaulted looked mortified, shrinking together in their chairs as though he could kill them with a look alone. Then again, it wasn't far from the truth. He could definitively kill them from here, and he could give them a look that would torture their souls to the point of insanity. No amount of combat training could prepare them for that. It was so easy. If he did it, the rest of the guard troop would apprehend him within seconds, but he knew he could get all three of these insolent bastards first. It was awfully tempting.

Kinana slowly got to her feet, walking over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder in solidarity. Daring a glance, he saw that she too had fury dancing in her eyes, but in contrast to him she was able to keep calm. Maybe because she didn't have to see with her own eyes how The Queen, their friend, had been lying there on the ground. Or maybe she was just that much better at controlling her emotions than him. In his current state of turmoil, he couldn't tell.

Taking a deep breath, he shook the few drops of beer that had landed on his fingers off before turning around and leaving the inn.

Looking down at his hands, he wondered. Would he really have done it? He usually never lost his cool like that. Not even when it had happened, when Mirajane had died, had he lashed out like this. He was out for blood and he grew more restless for every day it took The Garou Knights to return from their mission. He was sure he would feel better once he could hold the culprits severed head in his hands. Maybe he'd watch skin beetles feats on it and then keep the skull, hang it on a wall.

Seeing the sun slowly peek over the rooftops, he got his horse and headed back to the castle.

  


Levy lay awake in bed for a long while, feeling a little nauseous.

It was still somewhat surreal. There was a tiny human being growing inside of her. Laxus had smiled for the first time since Mirajane's death when he heard the news. When the suspicion built a few weeks ago, she asked Wendy and Sherria to confirm it fist, not wanting to give him false hope after all he had been through. Feeling for a second life in her body, they had nodded in agreement. She was pregnant.

When she called him away to talk, he had looked very worried. She couldn't say she blamed him. Whenever they spoke in private, it seemed to be about some kind of trouble, some new issue that had to be dealt with. But this time around she had good news.

She had to repeat herself once before the message sunk in, but once it did, a wide smile had spread over his lips. He had put a hand on her stomach, knowing well there was nothing to feel yet. Despite that, the reflex had been there already.

“If it is a girl, I would like to name her Lilithen”, he had humbly requested.

It was tradition that the mother choose her child's name, that the father not interfere, but he asked either way. Levy really didn't mind. She was sure Jessalyn would approve of that. She knew Mirajane had approved of it, planning to use the name for her and her husband's first daughter.

Mirajane was the one that should have brought Laxus's first born into this world, and Jessalyn was the one that should have given him a bastard, a tiny Lilithen. Now it was Levy that carried his child, that nourished the heir to the crown. It wasn't the way it was supposed to go. That was the only thing casting a shadow on her joy.

She had figured out the second meaning of Jessalyn's omen now. The baby, her and Laxus's child. It wasn't just a bad omen for Mirajane's future, for Laxus's future child with her, for all that never happened, it was also a sign to Levy. She carried it now. She carried a Lilithen.

Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her stomach to soothe herself. She had grown so much just over the past few weeks. It was odd to think she would look like she had swallowed a watermelon before this was over. She wondered how long it would take before she could feel her child move, could truly sense that it was there.

A noise brought out of her thoughts and she sat up, listening sharp. Someone was moving outside the bedroom, evidently trying not to make a sound. The large echoing rooms made that impossible, but the steps were slow and hesitant. She would have guessed it to be Laxus, aiming not to wake her as he rummaged about, but she knew for a fact that the king was already in the throne room. He had an audience scheduled.

“Gajeel? Is that you?”, she asked aloud.

At that, the door flew open and a masked figured launched at her. Screeching, Levy jumped out of bed. She grabbed her shortsword from the cabinet and turned around just in time to parry a sharp dagger. The masked rogue jabbed at her with a second knife and she screamed in pain as the blade lodged in her arm.

Gajeel slammed the door open and hurried into the royal chambers as soon as he heard the call of distress from within. He ran through the open bedroom door to see a dark figure attacking his liege. Drawing his sword in mid step, he rammed it though the perpetrator's back and out again through his chest.

Levy's eyes were wide in shock as the unknown man fell to the ground before her and the stench of blood attacked her nostrils. She clasped a hand over her wound, hissing at the burning pain creeping through her, crawling under her skin and all the way up her spine. She realised at once that it was more than a simple cut. She felt so dizzy all of a sudden, but she couldn't bring out any words. It quickly became harder to breathe and she fell forward.

The knight caught her, turning her around to look up at him. She could see that he was trying to talk to her. His mouth was moving, his eyes staring into hers as he tried to communicate with her, but she couldn't make sense of it.

Giving in to the exhaustion, she let herself relax against the safe arms of her champion. His presence was warmer even than usual. She foggily registered that he was pulling a blanket around her naked body, and smiled weakly at his caring way.

There was a commotion around her, other people entering the room and crouching down beside her, saying things, shaking her and trying to get her attention, but the entire world was a blur to her now. She closed her eyes and the room spun around uncomfortably. Holding onto her knight, she tried to shake the illness off before finally everything went dark.

Having no idea what the queen had been subjected to, the crown's two young healers did their best to at least treat the symptoms of the poison. After insisting several times that they needed some calm, Laxus finally grabbed the Black Steel Knight by the pauldrons and dragged him out of the room his own self, slamming the door shut behind the interfering man.

More than displeased to be left out, Gajeel paced back and forth along the hallway, muttering under his breath.

“I will kill them. I will kill them. I will fucking kill them.”

It didn't even matter who. The assassin alone wasn't enough. Someone had to pay for this. Someone had to suffer for it. No one touched Levy. No one! He clenched a hand around the hilt of his sword. The iron smell of blood still clung to it, edging him on further.

He first stilled when Freed took a hold of his sword arm, removing it from his belt.

“Pull yourself together, Soldier”, the High Constable hissed, and got a furious glare in return.

The dark red eyes had taken on an unholy shade, as though the man they belonged to knew nothing but murder. It reminded Freed that this man had once been a member of Phantom Lord. Had it not been for the precision Levy herself had written into his eye, he might have flinched back, have interpreted it as a genuine thirst for blood. As it was, he could see that the honour bound man wasn't about to attack him. Letting go of the black armour, he raised his voice.

“The King had to imprison someone he trusted because of that kind of foolishness before, someone that was very dear to The Queen. Do you really think your liege would want you to start down this path, to get yourself locked up for a crime of passion? Do you really think she would appreciate it?”

“She could die”, Gajeel growled back and he nodded calmly.

“And if she does, I will give you a head start to go do whatever you need to”, he declared seriously.

Giving an aggravated huff, Gajeel accepted those terms. He leaned back against the wall heavily, the metal of his armour scratching loudly against the stone, and crossed his arms over his chest. No longer pacing, he kept tapping his foot in agitation, but at least the vengeful tint left his eyes.

  


As soon as Bickslow arrived at the castle and heard the news, he hurried upstairs. In the hallway stood Freed, Evergreen, and Gajeel, all extremely agitated, and within the chambers themselves Laxus was sitting on a chair, head in his hands and his fingers digging into his scalp.

He looked up shortly when his Shadow Master appeared before him, and Bickslow could tell he blamed himself. His soul was tortured with a crushing guilt.

“It is not your fault”, Bickslow tried, but he knew it didn't make a difference.

“I can't loose another one”, Laxus mumbled before his gaze slid to the floor again.

“I can't.”

Bickslow wasn't sure if Laxus spoke of his wife or his child, or perhaps both.

He wanted to tell his friend it would be okay, that he could stop worrying, could stop beating himself up like this, could come out of his state of shock, but they didn't know that yet, and he wouldn't lie, not to Laxus.

Heading into the bedchamber where the semiconscious Queen lay, he saw that Wendy and Sherria had placed ice around her. Wendy was steadily forcing air into and out of her lungs, directing it through her magic. Sherria was in the meantime frantically searching through a thick book on poison for anything that might match, anything that might help.

She looked up as the door opened and sighed in a tired anger, “No. Men. Allowed.”

“Sorry, but it was poison, right?”, Bickslow asked, letting the heavy door fall shut softly behind himself.

“Maybe. There is only one wound and the hit was quick so it would make sense. The cut isn't infected, though. She has high fever and her breathing won't stabilize, but her heart is calm. Nothing is showing swelling. Her throat is fine. We feel nothing, no odd substance, not on her or the blade. I know of no poison that could do this.”

Picking the assassin's dagger from the cupboard, Bickslow inspected it. It didn't have any smell, any coating, but it was also clearly not designed to be fought with. The hilt was carved out of rare silverwood and the blade was forged out of silver, a far too soft alloy for a proper weapon. It wasn't ritualistic either, very simple in its design.

“It's not poison. It's magic”, he determined. “Where's the body? I heard the assassin was killed.”

Sherria nodded, “Gajeel caught him in the act. I don't know where they dragged the body, though. We just wanted it out of the way.”

Bickslow hurried back out into the hallway. If he was right about this, time was their enemy. Freed accompanied him into the room where they had stashed the attacker for now, laying the stale body down on the ground.

Beside him lay his belongings, a pair of actually useful daggers, a shortsword, throwing needles, and an uncanny metal mask. His black mantle had been removed as well in the search, leaving practical padded cloth. It was all far too familiar for comfort, but what was worst… he had the mark. Down the bridge of his nose, the black figure ran, arms raised over his now cloudy eyes.

“We unmasked him, but no one recognised his face”, the High Constable informed.

“You wouldn't”, Bickslow nodded.

“He's a Seith.”

Freed's eyes went wide in horror.

“Seith? You mean… He's from that unholy murder cult?!”

Swallowing hard, Bickslow nodded. Thank the gods the others didn't know he too was from that same 'cult', that same horrifying background. Most people didn't understand it, that they weren't inherently bad people. One could only retain so much humanity when being brought up in a world where a blood bath was the most commendable thing one could possibly accomplish, where a target that wasn't dead within the week was the worst disgrace.

Shaking the memories off best he could, he focused on what was important right now.

The deadly fever spell.

The suffocation spell.

He knew it was still in his head somewhere, even if it had been years, even if he never managed to master that kind of magic. Realising he still held the silver dagger, he turned it around in his hands, as though inspecting it might help shake something loose.

“Silverwood leaves.”

Freed looked back at him questioningly.

“We need silverwood leaves to save Levy. Have anyone that isn't essential at their post go look for it. Ask the traders, markets, anyone, everyone. Someone in this city has got to have some”, Bickslow instructed and he nodded, heading out to pass the instructions down.

The hours of uncertainty were a torture to all involved, but finally a group of guards returned with a handful of dried leaves and Bickslow got to work, brewing a strong infusion and carefully administering it to the queen. It took time and a steady hand, but in the end he managed to get her to swallow small sips of the brew between the breaths Wendy forced through her lungs.

Setting the empty cup aside on the bedside table, he eased Levy's head back down against the pillows and reached for a wet cloth, cooling it in water and laying it on her forehead once more. Her cheeks were still burning hot. Her breathing was still flat, even after all of Wendy's efforts, but the infusion gave him hope.

He had seen his teacher bring back people from worse conditions. In that case only to use them as test subject again. He always muted them first, said he didn't like to hear their screams, their pathetic begging. Felling nauseous, he shook his head a little.

“Bickslow?”, Sherria wondered softly and he forced a smile.

“I think this should do the trick. We should see some effect soon.”

“Why silverwood leaves?”, she asked and Wendy too glanced at him curiously before returning her focus to The Queen's breathing.

“Silverwood channels magic well because of its uniform nature, right? The leaves too have that quality. Their nature is uniform, but they are also antiseptic”, Bickslow explained.

“Oh, and because of that it can channel a curse, negate it. It's disinfecting the magic in her body”, Sherria tired to put it together and he nodded.

“Or at least something along those lines. I can't say I really understand all this magic stuff”, he added in a shrug.

She had nailed it, but as far as she knew he was no mage.

“She's breathing”, Wendy interrupted and he exhaled in relief.

“Thank Ophiuchus, it worked.”

He wanted to sink to the ground and rest, but there was still work to be done. Excusing himself, he walked out into the sitting room where Laxus had now placed his head on the table instead, staring out the window as he still didn't dare hope nor grieve. Putting a hand on Laxus's shoulder, Bickslow felt him jerk in surprise.

“Levy is slowly coming back to us. She'll live.”

Laxus went through the same tension and relief, exhaling audibly, shoulders relaxing and his eyes closing for a moment as he let the news sink in.

“Thank Mavis.”

Running a hand through his hair, he looked up.

“I couldn't… I couldn't loose another. I couldn't deal with that. It's my fault. I should have seen it coming. I did see it coming. I did worry. So why didn't I do something? Why the fuck did I not act?! I'm the worst. I promised to protect her. I promised twice.”

Once to Gajeel, and once in front of the entire kingdom, in front of the priest.

“I failed.”

Bickslow dragged a chair toward him, sitting down and facing him firmly.

“Laxus Dreyar, listen to me now. It is not your fault. It wasn't your fault when Jessalyn died. It wasn't your fault when Mirajane died. It is not your fault that Levy was attacked either.”

Shaking his head a little, Laxus was met with an angry bark.

“It's not!”

“What would you have done, hm? Posted more guards? Robbed her of her freedom? It wouldn't have helped. It would have been a slaughter. The man that attacked her...”

He lowered his voice into a whisper.

“It was a Seith.”

Laxus frowned deeply.

“I thought Raven Tail…”

“Mirajane was a Raven Tail hit. This was a Seith hit. Someone is really looking to hurt you, and it goes beyond one guild or clan. Not to mention, Seith don't have own objectives. They… We….”

“They”, Laxus corrected and he took a measured breath before continuing.

“They do not care about politics. They don't care that you are king. Someone hired them. Maybe it was Raven Tail. Maybe someone hired the both of them. We don't know.”

After a long silence, Bickslow bowed his head.

“I am sorry.”

“This wasn't you.”

“It could have been.”

Laxus shook his head.

“No. No it couldn't. You are not like them. You left.”

“The only reason I'm not dead is because I pretended to be, because you supposedly killed a Seith. I was just like that man and I wouldn't have hesitated to kill even The Queen of Fiore if it had been my order.”

“Shut up”, Laxus growled and Bickslow tensed.

“Did you ever wonder why I managed to defeat you?”

Bickslow nodded, “Every day since.”

It had always worked. His eyes, that spell of possession, of mental and spiritual torture, had never failed him before he met Laxus. Even now, even when he didn't want to do it, didn't aim to hurt anyone in such an ungodly way, it still worked. When someone was exposed to it, they were rendered defenceless within seconds.

“Because you hesitated.”

Bickslow frowned back at his friend, protesting, “No I didn't. I was aiming to kill you.”

“Yes, but you didn't want to. I felt it”, Laxus stated.

“That manic grin on your face when you pulled your mask off, when you met my eyes, it wasn't amusement. It was a coping mechanism to force yourself to do it despite your hesitance, despite your very being screaming at you to walk away, to not be what you thought you had to be. That is why I knew, even as I felt you invade my soul, as you promised me wordlessly that I would beg for death, that you wanted out. That is why I helped you, by defeating you.”

Bickslow was speechless.

He knew there was a form of connection between someone possessed and the caster of the spell, that it went two ways, but to think Laxus had focused more on him in that moment than on himself, had cared more about his, a stranger's and aggressor’s well-being, than about his own life.

He was astonishing. A crown fit him so perfectly.

“You did more than that, My Liege”, he finally murmured.

  



	24. Escaping the Depths

Rose lay on her bed while she waited, eyes closed and ears straining. She was listening for any sound making its way down the stone corridors. She was waiting for something, had been for the past few days. She was waiting for the sound of steps.

When it finally happened, the light and hurried taps echoing to her cell, she got up and walked over to the door to see a short, hooded figure arrive. One slender arm reached up and Levy pulled the covering cloth down, greeting her with a bright smile.

“Rose.”

“Levy, you have no idea how good it is to see your face”, Rose responded.

“I am sorry it took so long. I should have come to visit you out of my own initiative, but there was a lot going on”, Levy apologised and she shook her head.

“No, not at all. I'm just happy you came.”

Levy stuck a hand in through the bars and she held it in her own. So warm was the rare contact. She smiled a little, running a thumb over the soft skin before meeting the hazel eyes out in the dimly lit tunnel.

“Levy, I'm not looking for any form of redemption, I am really not, but I wanted at least you to know, I regret what I have done.”

Levy stood silent, merely squeezing her hand a little tighter.

“If I had stopped for just a moment to think, to breathe, had I listened to any of you, had I not so blindly been looking for revenge, I wouldn't have crossed the king. Had I not done that, I might have been able to protect Mirajane. I blame myself for all of this.”

“It's not your fault”, Levy protested and she shook her head.

“No, but I might have been able to prevent it. I know the way Raven Tail operates. I have met them before. I let myself get side tracked when the sovereign that I helped crown needed me, when a remarkable woman with a heart of gold needed me.”

“Rose, I do not blame you for your actions. I know the hatred you felt. To loose loved ones, it is a scar that can't be healed. It might as well have been me riding out for vengeance. I still respect you. I still care for you. I still trust you.”

“I bet the Lamb doesn't share that opinion”, Rose sneered.

“He will see it too in time, I'm sure.”

“If you say so.”

Letting her eyes take in the form of her visitor entirely, Rose noticed something was very different. A round shape was protruding from Levy's mid. Her gaze snapped back to Levy's face, to the lush lips and healthy cheeks.

“Are you pregnant?!”

“They don't tell you this kind of thing?”

“I get told nothing! It is terribly boring in here, I have to admit”, Rose joked, but Levy called her out at once.

“That is obviously not true if you know Raven Tail was behind the attack on Mirajane.”

True enough, she did have a bit of contact now and again. She had been able to tickle a little information out of Bickslow when he came down here on his expeditions, when he came by her cell to say hello, to check on her and leave her with some story to enjoy in her otherwise dull existence. He hadn't visited for a while, though. She suspected he had work to do.

Feeling the need to see Levy after all this time, to tell her these thoughts, and to just get confirmation that her brave little scholar's daughter was okay, she had motivated a guard that was still loyal to her to deliver the message. It was but a quick trick, some slight of hand, a note, anonymously written. No one would know he had been disobedient.

Not about to reveal her sources, Rose changed the subject back.

“So you really went ahead and took that phantom rat of yours as husband?”, she smiled.

Levy shook her head and began with, “He is no rat and you know it. Like it or not, he is a knight now.”

“And no, not quite. I am married to Laxus now. He needed to remarry quickly and our hope was that the heir to the throne might become a mage. Fiore was once the kingdom of mages after all. Even Hisui E. Fiore showed signs of magic before her accident. Thus, I was picked.”

Frowning, Rose let her forehead rest against the metal bars in an effort to lean in closer. By the gods, she hated the door separating them now with more passion than ever before. At least squeezing the soft hand in her own, she sighed.

“Geh, my little one, what do you always get yourself into?”

“Says you. I'm on a throne. You're in a dungeon”, Levy jested and she chuckled in turn.

“Haha. I guess you're right, My Queen.”

Looking down at the round tummy, a small smile formed on her lips again.

“Look how you glow. Bearing a child becomes you well.”

Levy could feel her face starting to hurt from all the smiling. Rose never spoke this softly and lovingly. Being down here on her own must make her desperate for company, to talk, to connect in a different way. She couldn't show her feelings through actions any more, not from behind bars.

Reaching into her pocket, Levy retrieved a slender silver chain with a round amulet hanging from it. On it, she had inscribed the ancient rune 'Life'. Handing it through the bars, she gave it to Rose.

“It is a charm. It will protect you.”

Setting the gift around her neck and hiding it under her clothes, Rose felt the warmth of it. It was most definitively a protective charm. Just having it on her greatly eased her. She felt connected to Levy somehow, like the mage's aura was now embracing her.

“Thank you.”

“I remember back in Hargeon when you would come back with different gifts all the time”, Levy teased light-heartedly.

“I wanted to do something for you. You had no mother left, but I couldn't play that part either since I was riding out all the time.”

“You can be so cute sometimes.”

At that, Rose made a face.

“Tsk. Whatever.”

She sighed, letting go of the soft hand that had been offered to her.

“Congratulations. That is what one is supposed to say when someone gets married and has a child, no?”

“I guess. Thanks”, Levy nodded.

“Is everything aright with you otherwise? Is he good to you? Do you get to do the things you always wanted to?”

“Yes, yes I am fine. I am a little worried, though. There was a third assassin that made his way into the castle, a Seith no less. He was out for me.”

“A Seith?!”, Rose asked shocked, wrapping her fingers around the bars separating them.

“I'm okay. Gajeel defended me. I was cursed, but I'm fine now thanks to the healers and Bickslow. The child is fine too. They fought the symptoms of the curses most valiantly”, Levy explained, running a hand over her stomach lovingly.

“I can feel her kick. I wish you could too”, she mumbled.

They were interrupted by marching boots and Levy shied back at once.

“I should go. It's unfitting for The Queen to converse with traitors behind her husband's back.”

“Of course. Go. And thank you for coming by to see me”, Rose nodded, shooing her away.

Pulling her hood up, Levy smiled, “Take care”, and hurried in the opposite direction of the approaching jailers.

“There is little else to do here, now is there?”

Except planning, that was.

  


Levy returned to her champion, standing a bit into the dungeon to make sure no one followed her while she met with Rose.

Walking down into the dungeons, she had claimed to be on her way to the archive. A blatant lie, but she had to keep her visit a secret. If anyone found out she spoke to Rose after the woman had literally attacked her husband, there was no telling what kind of damage to her reputation, and by extend to Laxus's reputation, there would be. A royal couldn't allow herself to be so careless, no matter how much she hated lying to her loved ones.

Walking back into the castle with Gajeel at her side, she headed for the throne room where Laxus had already begun meeting their visitors of the day. Striding over to his side, she sat down and took over.

The day passed by in relative calm. The audiences were dealt with and then followed the meeting of The Table. Everything was fine up until, as all trouble seemed to start, a guard hurried into the meeting hall.

Bowing low, he stated his business. “The traitor Rose Freeheart has escaped.”

Laxus shot up from his seat in anger and the guard flinched.

“How?!”

“I… I'm sorry, Your Highness, I haven't a clue”, the guard stuttered, almost shaking where he stood, the stormy orange eyes of his sovereign glaring him down.

Sighing, Bickslow stepped forward. He could see the expectant look on Laxus's face. His Shadow Master ought to have an answer, right? He sure did, but it was not one Laxus would be pleased to hear. It hurt to say it, but after what he had done, he at the very least needed to admit his betrayal.

“I let her go.”

“You did what?! Bickslow, why?!”, Laxus bellowed.

“She is going to find out who ordered the murder of Mira, who tried to have both you and Levy killed. She is an incredible fighter and very street wise. She has contacts all over Fiore and has a lot of ties to other bandits and swashbucklers. She has a good chance of finding the culprit. It is more likely that she will than even I. I tired already, and I failed you.”

Darton sighed tiredly, looking between king and royal guard. It was clear Laxus wouldn't be able to say it without his heart tearing apart yet again, so Darton did in his stead.

“While that might be true, you have crossed not only The Crown but The King of Fiore himself.”

“And I take full responsibility”, Bickslow nodded.

A heavy silence fell in the meeting hall. Everyone knew what this meant. Betraying The King was punishable by death. Laxus looked around for help. He couldn't possibly order something like that. No way.

When Levy stood, he feared she would utter the sentence. He would go against it, honour and crown be damned. He wouldn't let it happen.

“May I have a word?”, Levy asked and he exhaled in relief.

Nodding, he ordered, “No one goes anywhere”, and retreated with his wife.

In the next best empty chamber, Levy turned to him with a serious expression.

“You know you have to punish him.”

“He only…”, Laxus began, waving a hand in the general direction of the meeting hall, but Levy interrupted him.

“I know.”

She sighed, running a hand over her stomach. “I know what he is doing for us, but you have no choice. He is now a traitor.”

“I can't”, Laxus protested.

Levy firmed her eyes. Looking up at him, she spoke firmly and clearly, “You have to. Order him to go after Rose.”

Laxus frowned. “What?”

“If Bickslow and Rose work together, what could possibly stop them? Let part of his punishment be to go after her and bring her back. Tell him and him alone that he is to help her on her quest before returning. Simply bringing back the prisoner he freed will not be enough of a punishment for this crime, but if they are successful you can declare he has redeemed himself, that his crime is only one of disobedience. That way you can merely strip his privileges rather than having him executed. It is the best case scenario.”

Laxus leaned back against the wall and let out a breath. Thank the gods he had such a clever wife.

“Why am I even the one leading here?”, he muttered and Levy huffed a laugh.

“In all honesty, I wouldn't make for half the leader you are. You are an impressive presence. That is more important than you would think. I couldn't rally troops with half the conviction you can.”

She came closer to him with a saddened smile.

“And I know I wouldn't want to see me in a position that powerful. Not with all this hatred burning in my chest. You are kinder, wiser in a way. Had it been me that day Rose attacked you. Had it been me that was betrayed, I don't know if I would have shown mercy.”

She had killed without trial before. The man had been defenceless and not yet sentenced. Nevertheless, she drew a sword that was not hers and killed him. What she might do if she had full authority, not even one kind man's word above her own, she didn't even want to imagine. Far too violent, to bloody and cruel things ghosted in the back of her mind. Laxus on the other hand had experienced the worst kinds of loss and not once let that sway him from his path. He had been close to, yes, but he never truly fell.

Knowing about Levy's painful past, Laxus stroked a hand over her cheek.

“Thank you. I really value your advice and kind words. As I said already a couple of years ago, you are quite the mentor, even if you are younger than me.”

He was thankful beyond measure that she had found a way to protect his friend. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her lips before turning around to return to the meeting.

Levy lingered a moment, feeling over her lips. She just hoped he wouldn't forget their agreement. This was all just a façade. She had someone she loved, and he would never become more important than that special someone. She suspected he knew by now that it was Gajeel.

Pushing these worries away for a later time, she followed her husband back into the meeting hall and retook her seat, waiting for him to find the right words and speak his verdict.

Stopping before his friend, Laxus cleared his throat.

“Bickslow, you have committed treason against The Crown by freeing one of its prisoners. You are going to find the escaped traitor Rose Freeheart and bring her back.”

Bickslow shook his head at the order. “What? Laxus, don't you see how she could...”

“That is an order!”, Laxus barked. “Are you going to defy me a second time?!”

Swallowing hard, Bickslow shook his head again, his eyes downcast under his visor.

“No, My King. I will do as you say.”

Turning to the Shadow Guard's First General, Laxus proclaimed a radical change.

“Dobengal, you are now the Shadow Master of Fiore. I will be counting on you.”

Dobengal tensed in surprise and then bowed low. “Yes, My King.”

He glanced at the former Shadow Master, head hanging low and shoulders tense. If wasn't a particularly cheerful promotion. Bickslow had taught him much. He hoped he would be able to live up to the expectations now resting on his shoulders.

Laxus personally escorted Bickslow out of the room and down the stairs to bid him farewell.

“What the hell were you thinking?”, he demanded.

“I had to. I can't just sit by and wait until another assassin comes knocking, especially not if the Seith might be involved”, Bickslow explained, refusing to apologise for his decision. Even if Laxus had ordered him to die, which had been in the definite realm of possibilities in the light of his actions, he wouldn't have regretted it. He would have fled his fate, but not regretted it. Anything to protect his king.

“Listen sharp”, Laxus prompted quietly.

Bickslow glanced around quickly, ensuring they really were alone and wouldn't be overheard before he leaned in.

“When you come back, I expect you to report that whomever is behind all this has been dealt with and that Rose escaped, that there is no chance of finding her. Got it?”

Bickslow nodded, glad that Laxus did not truly intend for him to simply apprehend Rose.

“And one more thing”, Laxus added. “Since The Reaper has returned, I want you to go see him before you leave the capital. I presume he finished his job.”

“He always does”, Bickslow nodded.

Pulling his friend against his chest, Laxus let out a sigh.

“You're an idiot”, he said softly. “A loyal and ridiculous idiot.”

Bickslow swallowed hard, sneaking a hand under the fine mantle to return the embrace.

“I will miss you too.”

Hearing guards nearby, he pulled away, bowed deep, and walked away, leaving The King near tears. Anything to protect Laxus.

Stopping by his room, he gathered his belongings, tying everything together in a bundle. He noticed Dobengal sneaking into the corner of the room but elected not to point it out until he was done. Hefting the improvised pack up, he turned around and met the new Shadow Master's eyes.

“You'll do great. If you ever need anything, go to the inn. They will respect you, I will make sure of it.”

Dobengal nodded. He didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet, watching over the traitor's departure as the Master of the Shadow Guard ought to.

Tying his belongings to his horse, Bickslow rode for the Northern Gate Inn where he locked them away for the time being. He was a traitor now. Anything he might have left behind in the castle, he wouldn't see again.

Stalking back out of the Spartan cellar, he handed the key to the old barkeeper together with a stack of gold.

“No”, the barkeeper said, shaking his head. “Keep it. You'll need it on your travels.”

Hesitating, Bickslow finally accepted the care, pocketing the money.

“Thank You. Treat my successor right, will you. Guide him.”

The barkeeper nodded in agreement.

“So, since I might not come back, won't you tell me your secret?”, Bickslow tired playfully and the he chuckled.

“I have no idea what you mean, Shadow Master. I am but an old barkeep.”

“Yea right. And I wasn't demoted”, Bickslow countered.

The old man poured an ale and set it down on the bar.

“On the house”, he grumbled before going back to sharpening his knife, or rather, going back to thinning the blade into non-existence. It was a hard habit to get rid of after years of the rogue's lifestyle. Bickslow knew.

It was like knights shining their helmet every evening, like archers checking over their bowstrings, like scholars rearranging books that weren't out of order to begin with. There was simply something meditative about working a blade edge by the camp fire, even if it wasn't needed.

Picking the ale off the counter, Bickslow walked over to where The Garou Knights were seated and flopped down.

“Leaving, are you?”, Kama asked and he nodded.

“Seems like it. My turn to go head hunting. Speaking of which”, Bickslow answered, setting the same amount of gold down as he had when the assassins left on this quest a few months ago, as promised.

The Reaper pulled a bag from the floor and set it down on the table demonstratively.

“Only one. The other Ravens flew away when death came knocking”, he stated dryly, pocketing the money.

Taking the bag, Bickslow stood. The weight was about right for a head. Trusting in The Reaper's work, he didn't check the contents. He didn't want the stench to ruin everybody's appetite.

With his trusty travel robes, his two sets of daggers, his money pouch, a water skin, and now the head in a bag, he left the inn.

He was surprised to find Gajeel waiting for him just outside, in full armour and with a grim look in his eyes. Instinctively finding one of his daggers under his robes, Bickslow tensed. The Black Steel Knight extended an arm, motioning him into the alley and he relaxed. Levy was here, wasn't she?

Turning into the small side road, he had his suspicion confirmed. The Queen stood before him, a simple black mantle allowing her a little bit of anonymity. Behind him, Gajeel positioned himself demonstratively in the middle of the path.

Bickslow bowed his head. “My Queen?”

“Why did you let her go? Why didn't you come to us?”, Levy demanded angrily.

Bickslow was well aware that his betrayal cost the kingdom. Not only had he hurt Laxus, he would no longer be available to the capital as Shadow Master. Levy's anger was no surprise.

“Because Laxus can't just turn back on his own word.”

Her eyes softened for a moment. “Thank you for doing this…”

She took a deep breath and focused before continuing, and he could feel an aura emit from her, something sinister and grand, a magic of intimidation. It was disturbingly familiar.

“…but if you don't find her, or if she dies on this quest, I will hold you personally responsible”, Levy warned darkly.

She straightened her back and strode up to him, pointing at his visor. “Find her, help her, and then let her go or else. I know your secret, Seith.”

Bickslow noticed how Gajeel too came closer, cornering him. Not that he wouldn't have been able to escape this situation, but it was most certainly an impressive display.

“That's what the King ordered”, he ensured them.

Levy frowned at him, not seeming entirely convinced.

“Laxus is a good man. He understands why she did what she did, now more than ever. And I for one have no intention of letting anything happen to Rose either. We will find out what is happening and we will put and end to it. Trust in that, My Queen.”

When no further threats came, Bickslow bowed again and turned around, heading past Gajeel.

“A hint”, Levy said and he stilled. “Start in Zinla. It would surprise me if she doesn't get equipped there. The city lord admires her.”

He nodded.

“Thanks.”

  



	25. Declared a Traitor

Bickslow was displeased that Levy had visited Rose in secret. He really didn't want to report this to Laxus, but there was little else he could do. It was his duty to inform The King of his wife's behaviour.

That Rose then called for him through one of her little henchmen irritated him even more. Clearly, he did not have full control of his guard troop. Stalking down toward the cell, he grumbled to himself.

Rose had a power he did not posses. Despite her being a traitor, some stayed loyal to her even over their own guard master. Bickslow could scare the souls out of people, could control with ferocity, but Rose could do something far more valuable. She could make friends for life. She could motivate people to risk their lives for her without second guessing.

If only he knew her secret.

He too had friends, but only a handful, and most of them were shady at best. Beside Laxus, Freed, and Evergreen, he couldn't think of anyone he would put that much trust in. Rose on the other hand had connections all over the country that he didn't even know about.

He hated secrets when they weren't in his personal possession.

Reaching the cell, he saw Rose already waiting by the door. One hand on the bars, she was tapping her fingers impatiently. She looked alive again. There was a sense purpose in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long while. Just what had Levy told her?

Bickslow made himself known and Rose straightened her back.

“I know you're there.”

He stepped into the flickering light and her eyes snapped to his face, meeting his visor. Her expression was determined.

“What do you want?”, Bickslow asked.

“I heard Levy was attacked by a Seith.”

“And?”

Rose clicked her tongue at the question. “And you know exactly what, Shadow Master. Let me out”, she demanded as though she had the authority to do so.

“You attacked Laxus, used the same fucking technique that I taught you against him. You injured my king. Why the hell would I help you?”

“Because you are a loyal dog. You would still rather die than put Laxus in danger”, Rose responded smugly. She leaned in to the door and smirked, “Because you care about him, Levy, and their child. You haven't found the culprit yet, have you? I'm your best chance. I'm the Lamb's best chance.”

“You really care about Levy, don't you?”, Bickslow asked and she frowned back at him.

“Of course I care about her. What the hell did you think?”

“Enough to get yourself a guaranteed death sentence?”, Bickslow asked sternly.

“Yea. I guess I'm the same kind of idiot as you. Now let me go already. I know you nicked the keys off the patrol. It wasn't at his belt when they passed by. You knew what I was going to ask and you knew that you would do it in the end so stop talking and get to it already.”

“Only if you ask nicely”, Bickslow teased and she growled at him from within her cell.

“Guess not then”, he shrugged, turning on his heel and making to walk away.

“Are you serious right now?! Bickslow! Oy!” Being ignored by the rogue, she finally admitted defeat. “Fine!”

He froze in place and cupped a hand over his ear. “Yes?”

“Please let me out so I can protect what is important to both me and you.”

“Hm...”, Bickslow contemplated, tapping a finger against his chin.

Rose bit back her anger and articulate slowly, “Please.”

“Okay then”, Bickslow shrugged, pulling the keys from his pocket. Sure enough, he had stolen the bunt on his way down. Rose was really learning to pay attention in the dull silence down here. She could perhaps have made a good rogue after all, given the right training and a lot of patience.

Glancing along the corridors, he made sure no one was nearing in before he slid the key into the lock and turned it, hushing the mechanism with a mild little spell.

“Finally”, Rose grumbled and he set his food down hard, holding the door shut between them. Did she really find it that obvious he would do this? He didn't. He had seriously doubted that he would. It irritated him that she seemed so sure of her assessment, and perhaps even more that she turned out to be right.

“Just so we are perfectly clear. I am not doing this for you. This is for Laxus and you had better make good on your claim.”

“Whatever. Open the door already”, Rose growled back.

Huffing, Bickslow let go and she stepped out into the tunnel. Still, there was a warding spell on her. It wasn't the same as the one on the doors, though. It was Levy's magic. He could feel it. She had given Rose a token of some sort, hadn't she? It was good fortune. A charm would make it easier to walk Rose through the lower levels of the labyrinth. They couldn't afford to be seen, but having Rose get caught in the curse's grasp wouldn't be awfully helpful either. Taking the fugitive's hand, he tugged her into the shadows.

Once they were below the dungeons, Bickslow produced the green crystal he had found by the large hole in the middle of the labyrinth when he visited the archives with Levy and Darton. Handing it to Rose, he led on along the dirt tunnels.

While he could navigate over uneven ground blindly, Rose could not. Even with the illumination, she still stumbled now and again. It had been a while since she walked this far. He just hoped she remembered how to ride, for she would have to be swift if she wanted to stay free. She would need to steal a mount on the road.

Reaching a great wooden door, Bickslow stopped. It was an entrance Levy didn't know about yet. Laxus had accepted he keep this secret from her. In the light of what he was doing now, he didn't doubt Laxus would regret that and reveal the location before the end of the day.

“What now?”, Rose asked and he smirked. She didn't seriously think he would lead them to a dead end, did she? While it was far easier to open a door with the proper key, a lock wasn't a particularly complicated mechanism. Bringing forth his tools, he knelt down. The ray of light shining through the keyhole and the dim green illumination from within was more than enough for him to work with.

“Right. Of course you can pick locks. Why did I even ask?”, Rose grumbled.

Sliding down the wall, she sat with a tired sigh. How had she gotten herself to this point in time? She was escaping from the breakout proof dungeons of Crocus, and that with the help of no other than the Shadow Master himself. Her life was a mess.

She reminded herself that, just as long as she could make her way out onto the open road, it would be fine. She would be able to protect Levy. It would all work out somehow. She trusted Bickslow to get her out safely and discretely. The sinister atmosphere around them was just getting to her, whispering into her ear, 'what if?'. She had to distract herself from the unease until Bickslow was done.

“How can you find your way down here anyways?”, she wondered aloud.

“I just can.”

The only two ways Rose had heard of were the jailer patterns and magic. The patterns required you to follow them and allowed no exploring. That left one option.

“You're a mage, aren't you?”

“Not exactly”, Bickslow waved it off.

“What's that supposed to mean?”, Rose asked and he let out a deep sigh.

“Does it matter? I'm trying to focus here.”

Knowing all too well that Bickslow had no concentration issues, Rose shrugged a little. “I guess not. Hell, I don't even want to know. A rogue and a not exactly mage. You sound like a Seith”, she jested.

“Very funny”, Bickslow grumbled and Rose raised her uninjured eyebrow.

“Since when are you so easy to offend?”

“Since a Seith attacked our queen”, he answered dryly.

“Right.”

She sat in silence and waited, doing her best to ignore the movement in the shadows that her imagination was conjuring. As soon as Bickslow had the door open, she sprung up and hurried toward the blinding light.

The grip of the curse slipped off her and she took a deep breath. She hadn't ever noticed just how good fresh air smelled. Blinking against the stinging sunlight for a while, she finally managed to open her eyes properly.

Looking around, she noticed they were in some form of yard. All around were buildings with barred windows and doors. Only a tight alley led away from the enclosure.

Holding the now ordinary looking crystal out, she was surprised Bickslow didn't take it. Instead, he handed her a hooded travel robe.

“You might need it if you have to spend the night in the woods. I don't have a horse for you, so you'll have to improvise. You're just behind the Northern Gate Inn right now. A cart is parked up front. Hop on and it will take you out the gate and a bit along, but from there you're on your own.”

Pocketing the crystal, Rose nodded. Despite wanting to, she couldn't bring 'thank you' past her lips, so she vowed instead, “Whoever ordered that hit, I will find them and I will kill them. Just you wait.”

“Don't fail.”

“Have I ever?”, she asked confidently.

Bickslow turned back to the dark tunnel they had just emerged from with a meaning look and she growled at him. Tugging the robes around her and hiding her hair under the black hood, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the yard to find her ride.

  


To be ordered to leave the capital and Laxus's side upon his confession was painful, but Bickslow was glad he would have a chance to bring the culprit to justice at least. He was sure Dobengal would be able to keep everything afloat, especially if he employed the bartender's help. That man was a fascinating mystery and a great asset.

Riding out, Bickslow was pleased to find it easy to hide in plain sight in the city just south of Crocus. Zinla was the resting place of traders and travellers of all varieties. His appearance wasn't noteworthy in any meaning of the word. It was easy to see why the trading centre had once threatened the capital. It was a fortress of high walls and watchtowers. Not many corners of the city were hidden from their view.

Leaving his horse at the stables, he scoured the bars for information. Drunken guards were always chatty, and especially so if you covered a round or two. A friend was easy to make when alcohol flowed. The absence of any organised rogues made it even easier to find out what he needed to. No one was acting against his inquiry.

The city lord, an otherwise very active man, had not left the castle today. In fact, the right side of the third floor had been declared off limits to all but his most trusted men.

Some suspected the Lord was simply ill, but others ensured he must have something deprived hidden behind those locked doors. The guess was long hair and broad hips. Bickslow was quite sure he knew who the visitor was, though, and she was nothing like that.

Figuring the Lord might not love the accusation, and might have him imprisoned for the audacity, Bickslow decided to check for himself rather than stalk in the front door and ask.

Sneaking around the castle walls in the cover of night, he scaled the building and peeked in through the windows. Sure enough, on the locked third floor, he found her. Rose was sleeping deeply, fully enjoying her first night in a proper bed since her capture.

He felt a little bad for disturbing her rest, but hanging from the windowsill the entire night wasn't really an option he considered. Silently opening the window, he dropped inside.

Rose woke with a start, pulling a dagger from under her pillow on instinct. Seeing a human form looming over her, she lashed out and met a firm hand that pried the blade from her fingers with ease.

“Why hello, My lady. I'm happy to see you too.”

Squinting at the man standing by her bed, Rose realised who it was that had found her and exhaled in relief. Pulling the blanket up to cover herself, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“I swear if you ever scare me like that again I will cut your freakish long tongue out”, she snarled and Bickslow gave an amused chuckle.

“I'd like to see you try.”

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he put the dagger down on the night stand. “Sleeping with a blade under your pillow is a bit much, don't you think? You're in the City Lord's castle with at least 2 guards outside the door and another 10 along the hallway, from what I counted so far. Someone might call you paranoid.”

Ignoring his commentary, Rose asked bewildered, “What are you doing here?”

“I was sent to bring you back.”

She inspected him from head to toe before determining, “But you won't. Not after freeing me in the first place.”

“No”, he confirmed and her shoulders relaxed.

Bickslow thought for a moment, wondering if he could tease her a little now that she was groggy and confused. He decided not to in the end. Something told him she might try to make truth of her promise if he pushed too far. “Unofficially, I am supposed to help you and then lose you once our work is done.”

“How kind, but I have every intention of going back”, Rose snarled.

“You do?”

Bickslow had expected her to leave the country once the deed was done. That she would even consider going back to the dungeons was ludicrous, especially now that she unofficially had The King's blessing to disappear.

“Yes. I committed a crime and I will sit out my sentence. I just want to get this bastard before I do. I need to know that Levy is safe or I will never be able to walk at Ophiuchus's side.”

“What exactly is your connection with The Queen?”, Bickslow inquired. Rose had been very protective of her for as long as he knew them, but where did that come from? She didn't behave that way with anyone else, adult or child.

“I always wanted a child when I was younger. When I found her, alone and starved in that forsaken town, I guess I adopted her without asking”, Rose admitted.

Bickslow was stunned. She had never been this open about her past before, not even when asked directly. The time in the dungeons really had changed her. How much? He wanted to poke around, let his curiously free, but he didn't want to strike a nerve either.

Stroking her by now far too long hair out of her face, Rose looked back at him again.

“The Shadow Master was sent after me in person then. Should I feel honoured?”

“Well, I kinda lost that position”, Bickslow admitted.

“What?”

“The King stripped me of my privileges when he found out what I had done.”

Rose frowned at him. “How did they find out that it was you?”

“I told them”, Bickslow shrugged and the folds on her forehead deepened notably.

“You what? Are you insane?”, she asked, sounding downright appalled by the idea.

“Maybe a little”, he jested and Rose shook her head in disbelief.

She let her head fall back onto the pillow with a deep sigh. “Geh, men, seriously. You'd think at least a rogue would have some creep to him.”

Watching her in the dim light, Bickslow saw that her expression soften again rather quickly. She wasn't as irritated as she made it seem, was she? No, she seemed almost a little pleased. Why was that? If her mystery had lured him before, this semi-open side of her was the worst possible tease.

“Do you have any leads so far?”, he asked and Rose quirked an eyebrow.

“Can we talk about this in the morning? I am really fucking tired.” The statement was followed by a deep yawn. She was about ready to nod off gain.

“Sure”, Bickslow nodded.

In contrast to her, he hadn't been undernourished, hadn't launched a sudden escape, stolen a mount and ridden out and around the capital in one day only to sneak into another city. He was nowhere near as tired as her.

Getting up, he moved to the other side of the room. About to sit down with his back against the wall and catch a few hours of shut-eye as well, he was stopped.

“You don't have to sleep on the floor, you know”, Rose protested.

“It's fine”, he insured, but she wouldn't have it. Pulling her blanket up, she clicked her tongue.

“By the gods, just get over here already, you weirdo.”

Hesitating for a moment, Bickslow gave in. Shedding travel robe and the padded clothing, he climbed into bed beside her and Rose turned around with a huff, closing her eyes. Within the minute, she was back asleep.

After half an hour, Bickslow determined he would have really preferred the floor. The fact that a naked woman was lying beside him under the sheets was not allowing him to relax. It became painfully obvious once more that he was not used to the Freeheart mentality about bodily contact and intimacy.

  



	26. Zinla

Bickslow stalked after Rose through the Zinla Castle, ignoring the bewildered looks the guards shot him along the way. They were pretty sure there had only been one guest yesterday.

Reaching a small dining room, they were met by three men of obviously high standing. Two of them were knights, armoured and vigilant. Between them sat the third, decorated in fine jewellery and expensive silken robes.

Rose extended her arm toward him and ever so slightly bowed her head.

“This would be the Lord Windsor, Guard Master and City Lord of Zinla”, she introduced, confirming what Bickslow had already figured out for himself.

He too bowed his head toward the man.

Setting his cup down, Windsor gave him a long look. A deep frown formed on his forehead and his eyes slimmed as he realised a rogue was standing in his castle, and that not by his invitation.

“Who the hell is that? And how did he get in here?”

“A friend”, Rose evaded the questions.

Bickslow took a step forward, seeing little point in hiding his identity from a man that was already involved with their lawbreaking. Dipping his head lower, he answered, “My name is Bickslow, My Lord. As for titles, I am but a traitor these days.”

Windsor relaxed back in his chair. That name, he recognised.

“Well, I suppose any friend of Rose's is a friend of mine.”

“Of Jessalyn's you mean”, Bickslow retorted and he forced a smile.

Rose shot the rogue a look and he shrugged before pulling a chair out and flopping down cockily. It was true. The Lord's real interest was in Rose's dead sister. Rose had his loyalty only because of the blood they shared, not because of any action of her own.

“Why, please, make yourself at home”, Windsor grumbled.

“Thank you, My Lord”, Bickslow smirked back.

He knew Windsor had recognised his name. Why else would he have accepted the sudden appearance of an unknown and armed man in his castle? He knew who Bickslow was and what connections he could call upon. Calling him a friend was an attempt at extending his own influence, by making a powerful ally.

While accepting it, Bickslow was making it unmistakably clear that this alliance did not come without sacrifice. He was showing just much he had over the other, that his and not Windsor's name was the one to fear. He was the one that The King would believe if they ever spoke out against another.

The Lord was technically speaking also committing treason by harbouring a fugitive. Bickslow figured he shouldn't have particularly high expectations for anyone's obedience while on this quest, but that didn't mean he wouldn't make use of this little power struggle.

After a long and awkward silence, Windsor finally stood and straightened his robes out.

“I don't know what exactly you are planning, Rose, but you and your friend here are welcome to stay for as long as you need. If you require weapons, armour, men, or anything else, all you have to do is ask. I have someone looking for equipment for you as we speak. Unarmed doesn't fit you.”

Rose pulled a dagger from her belt at the comment and he chuckled. Of course she wouldn't go entirely unarmed.

The important part was that with his offer, he had also shown his goodwill to the Shadow Master, so that his little sidestep of helping Rose shouldn't become a problem in the future. To fully settle it, he came around the table and put his hands down on her shoulders.

“I know you are a good woman, Rose. Whatever you did, and whatever it is you are so driven to now, I stand with you. As long as you don't drag anyone else into treason, I'm here for you.”

Rose too realised what this entire act was about, but she had a bit more couth than the men and didn't let that show.

“Thank you Sam. We appreciate it”, she smiled, and Bickslow took his cue.

“Yes, that is very generous. Sam.”

Looking between his two dangerous visitors, Windsor smiled far too brightly. Motioning to the richly set table, he prompted, “Enjoy”, before leaving the room with his guards.

A maid brought them plates and cutlery before bowing low and giving them privacy.

Happily picking bread, fruit, and cheese from the platters, Bickslow dug in. It didn't surprise him that Rose too ate heartedly, and not without the occasional hum of delight. Stale bread and soup became boring quickly and she had been living off it for quite some time.

Once their tummies filled and she slowed down, Bickslow wondered, “So, do you have a lead?”

Rose shook her head. “No, but I was thinking I should have a talk with these Seith characters.”

“No”, Bickslow determined firmly and she raised her eyebrows as she brought another cup of wine to her lips.

“I'm serious, Rose, you can't”, he insisted.

Emptying the mug and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Rose paused. She folded her hands together and teased, “And why not? Are you scared of them?”

“Yea, I am”, Bickslow nodded. He pointed at her and emphasised, “And you should be too. No one 'has a talk' with Seith. They will hunt you down and feed your eyes to the crows for just suggesting such a thing.”

“I can handle myself.”

“It's not about that. This isn't a guard troop were talking about. You don't just kick their leader's ass or hold your hand in a fire to gain their respect. They will hunt you to the end of the world. They won't stop until they either have your head or their entire clan is wiped out.”

“So I kill the lot then”, Rose determined and he groaned. She wasn't listening!

“That's impossible!”, he stated and she let out a chuckle.

“Oh yea? What made them immortal all of a sudden?”

“Numbers.”

Rose hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “How many can they be? 50? 100?”

Leaning onto the table and making sure he had her full attention, Bickslow enumerated, “The Seith are several thousand heads strong. The academy brings up a hundred new every year. When they don't have enough children on their own to hit the mark, they go and take them from elsewhere. The Seith are not a little inn of shady people. They are a city. Think Hargeon, but filled with bloodthirsty, magic wielding assassins that can't spell to mercy.”

“You sure know a lot about them”, Rose countered and he willed himself not to tense up, not to let anything show.

“It's what I do. Shadow Master, remember?”, he lied.

“So what do you suggest then, 'Shadow Master'?”, Rose mocked before picking an apple from a nearby plate and taking a demonstratively large bite.

Leaning back, Bickslow grumbled a little. “I'm not sure.”

“Great plan”, Rose taunted at once and he licked his lips in irritation. That woman was hopelessly infuriating. It was no wonder Freed had a problem with her. For Bickslow, her constant aggression was instead far too alluring.

“Let me think”, he mumbled. Just as long as she didn't catch the attention of The Seith.

When he didn't lay out a plan within five minutes, she tapped the table and demanded, “I'm waiting.”

“You have to learn patience if you hope to hide from the law.”

“Fuck you”, Rose spat, and a light went for Bickslow.

He smirked, “Now that is a plan.”

  


Somewhat bewildered, Rose hurried out of the castle and after Bickslow along the roads of Zinla. Whatever her outburst had reminded him off, he seemed sure it would help their quest.

Reaching a rather shady looking inn by the outermost ring of the fortified city, Bickslow motioned her to stay a step behind, to pretend they weren't here together. She waited a moment after he had entered the little building before stepping through the creaking door as well.

The inside reminded her a lot of The Northern Gate Inn. It was badly lit, filled with hooded characters, and far too quiet. It seemed creeps and dealers were always drawn to the same atmosphere. It was supposed to be quiet and calm for those resting here, and intimidating to all those that did not belong.

Stalking through the bar with confidence, Bickslow stopped by a round of young women. They were the only few that didn't hide under heavy cloth. To the contrary, they showed off more than could be deemed decent. With light flowing cloth, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, they seemed prepared for a feast.

All did they eye Bickslow when he approached, smiling at him despite his peculiar outfit and hidden face. One in particular seemed genuinely delighted to see him.

Meeting her gaze, Bickslow smiled, “Hey Baby.”

“Hello Handsome”, she responded sweetly, one hand running through her long brown hair.

Counting a few coins from his pouch, Bickslow offered them to her, but she just eyed him for a moment.

“Do you have a room?”, she asked and he nodded.

“Yea, but not here.”

Her smile turned playful and she hooked her hair behind her ear, running one finger down along her neck to guide his eyes.

“Then you're going to have to do better.”

Adding to the amount, he held the money out and she accepted, taking it from his hand and elegantly rising from her chair.

Rose could see the exchange between the brunette and her friends. They were clearly worried, giving her meaning looks. 'Don't go with him'. They didn't have to say it aloud. The brunette however showed no hesitance. Clearly, she knew exactly who Bickslow was, and she didn't worry about it for a split second.

Waiting for a moment, Rose followed Bickslow and his hired company around the corner and into an alley, where she found them kissing. Raising an eyebrow, she looked around for whatever it was Bickslow's aim might be. Was he honestly just looking to get laid? That couldn't be it. Why the hell would he have dragged Rose along then? Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she walked closer until the brunette noticed her and leaned away from the rogue.

“You didn't say we were going to have an audience”, she teased.

“I'll make it worth your time, promise”, Bickslow smirked.

Motioning to Rose, he introduced her to the brunette. “This is Rose, Lady Freeheart, former High Constable of The Crown.”

“Former?”, the woman wondered.

“Yes Baby. She was thrown into the dungeons as traitor.” Giving a forced smile, he added, “And I too am now a traitor.”

“What did you do?”

“Free her.”

“And what did she do?”

“Try to kill Lord Dreapip. It was revenge for a lover”, Bickslow elaborated, and clearly not without an ulterior motive.

“But she couldn't do it?”, the brunette asked and Rose's eyes slimmed.

She was about to defend herself, and her honour as fighter, when Bickslow continued, “His Highness in person stopped her. She did put a scar on him for it.”

The brunette inspected Rose from head to toe, letting her eyes wander over the obscuring robe and hood a few times as though she could tell what weapons the redhead carried underneath, before finally pointing at her. “You're telling me she fought and injured The King of Fiore because of a dead lover?”

“Yepp”, Bickslow nodded and she gave a whistle.

“I can respect that.”

Turning to Rose, she stuck her hand out and introduced herself. “An honour. I'm Natalia.”

Accepting the gesture, Rose wondered, “A whore?”

“The best”, she smirked and Bickslow cleared his throat, gaining himself a shove.

Turning to him again, Natalia asked, “So if you're not here for a fuck, then what is it you need?”

“Information.”

“The attack on The Queen?”, Natalia asked and he nodded.

“Yea. It was a Seith job.”

At the mention of the clan, a glimmer of fear ghosted over her face. Bickslow stroked a hand over her arm to soothe. It was a healthy fear she harboured, but he needed her to focus for a bit. Whores made for great informants. They knew the chatter of drunken men and women, were trusted by them beyond reason, and could move through the city, meeting the strangest of folk, without arousing any suspicion.

“It's okay Baby. I don't need you to do anything dangerous. I just need you to tell me if you heard of anything strange. Did anyone peculiar pass through the city? Anyone that doesn't fit in?”

Taking a measured breath, Natalia thought for a moment. She licked her lips and looked around them for a moment before asking carefully, “Just how important is this?”

“We have no, and I mean absolutely no leads”, Bickslow emphasised. Leaning in to her, he wrapped an arm around her mid protectively. “So if you know anything at all, I need you to tell me.”

Natalia shot him another hesitant look before crossing her arms over her chest and demanding, “Okay then. 50.”

Bickslow titled his head a little, eyeing her sceptically. She was asking for quite a lot.

“You said you need it”, Natalia argued and he huffed a laugh. She was clever. Mean, but clever. He hated and loved it.

“Information first”, he determined and she smiled back.

“Deal”, she agreed, turning on her heel and beckoning them to follow as walked back out onto the paved road. Leading them toward the centre, she inspected Rose again, watching the way she walked and held herself. It was clear from her stride alone that she was a warrior and no lady. Her steps were broad and long, not feminine at all.

Turning her gaze back to Bickslow, she didn't find as much new. Him, she knew since before. He was light on his feet but sturdy nonetheless. The sack bound to his belt did pique her interest. It was cumbersome, definitively not something you'd pick as travelling bag.

“What is that?”, she wondered.

“A head”, Bickslow answered truthfully and Rose tensed.

“You're carrying a human head around?”, she demanded quietly. What the hell was he thinking?!

“Doubtful”, he evaded and Rose gave him a stare that spelled pain. Before she could utter her threat, Natalia cut in, taking a hold of his arm and pouting at him.

“Bixy? I thought we were having an honest exchange here.”

Between the clever whore and the aggressive arbalist, Bickslow had little choice but to tell the truth. He sighed and told them, “It used to belong to the man that killed The Queen.”

“It was a Raven, isn't it? Kurohebi is the name I head”, Natalia asked and he nodded.

“What are you gonna do with it?”, she wondered.

“I was gonna clean it and mount it on a wall, but now I'm not sure. I don't really have the time. Any suggestions?”, Bickslow asked jokingly.

“Make a necklace out of his teeth”, the brunette said without missing a beat and he laughed aloud.

“I like the way you think.”

  



	27. Leads

Rose was bewildered by the woman Bickslow had hired to help them gather information. She didn't seem like the typical working girl. She was far too blunt and crude to charm anyone. It had to be because she already knew Bickslow. She had to know him really well to agree to this. The fear had been clear on her face when The Seith were mentioned.

“Just what is going on between you and this whore?”, Rose asked.

“Her name is Natalia”, Bickslow reminded.

“You didn't answer the question.”

“It's a long story”, Bickslow evaded, but Rose wasn't having it. If he could press her to reveal the reason for her relation to Levy the day before, then she could press him for something in turn now.

“We have time”, she insisted.

Bickslow still didn't speak up, but Natalia did in his stead. Falling into step beside Rose with a sweet smile on her lips, she told her side of the story.

“Me and another three girls had rooms at The Northern Gate Inn when Bickslow came along. He took over the guild and announced it was now part of the Shadow Guard. For us, he restricted access. No more permanent rooms. He did however also tell the men to pay up. For the first time, we could actually earn a living at the inn.”

“So he enticed you to stay, but also forced you to go home at the end of the day?”, Rose interrupted.

“Exactly. And it worked”, Natalia nodded. “After a week, we were six. After two, we were twelve.”

Leaning in to Rose, she nodded toward the rogue. “He always asked for me, every day. He paid well too for those short ones. He's a cuddler, that one. And he likes gossip. So I cuddled, and I gossiped.”

“You mean you became his informant.”

Natalia shrugged a little. “I guess I did. I came to trust him. He's gentle.”

Smiling to herself, she continued, “When I asked Bixy why he kept picking me in particular, he said it was because I wasn't scared of him like the others.” The smile dropped from her face again just as quickly. “There is only one man I ever feared.”

“The owner”, Rose said at once. She knew that feeling. Other people might harm you, might go too far, but they eventually left. The owner was the only one that could make your life hell every single minute of the day. He was the worst, the one great evil that held your life in his calloused hands. He was the one that decided when and if you were allowed to sleep and eat, even breathe.

“He took my baby boy, sold him. He was just a week old. I never saw him again. I didn't even get the time to decide on a name for him. Maybe that's better, though. If I had a name to hold onto…” Natalia quieted.

Looking down at her feet, Rose swallowed hard. She had seen many go through the same back when she herself was but a child.

“I'm sorry for your loss”, she murmured.

Natalia forced a smile back to her lips, the same one Rose had seen so many times before. It was practised, but believable, a smile that wasn't merely on her lips but also around her eyes. The only thing missing was the emotion behind it. You had to look happy when you met a customer. You simply had to.

“Better that than giving birth to a girl at least”, Nataila said, proving once more that controlling your voice was far harder than your facial expression. A voice always gave away the truth in the end.

Rose nodded. “Yea. I grew up in a brothel in the East. The boys were sold, but we stayed.”

Natalia's eyes widened in surprise. She had no idea the famous rebel and leader shared her past. Taking Rose's hand, she leaned onto the woman as she walked, brushing against the well trained arm in a discrete nudge of comfort.

She cleared her throat and continued, “One day, Bickslow suddenly turned up at our house. He broke open the safe and divided the money we had brought in for the owner between us. With the generosity he had ensured at the inn, it was easily enough for each one of us to make it across the country if we wanted, to start anew. Only five stayed after that.”

“And what happened to the owner? I don't recall anyone being tried for slavery in Crocus”, Rose wondered. At the time, she had still been in charge of the army. Something like this would have reached her ear.

“He wasn't tried”, Natalia smiled. This time it was genuine. Her voice was light and amused.

Turning to Bickslow, Rose growled, “You killed him, didn't you?”

How dare he hunt her through the snow, throw her into the dungeons, tell her she was doing something wrong for going after Lord Dreapip, when he himself had gone behind The King's and the court's back, killing a man without a trial?! The nerve of this man!

“I asked him to”, Natalia defended him, squeezing Rose's hand a little.

“He was lying on the ground, begging for his life, but I wanted him dead. After what he did to me, more than anything, I wanted him dead. It was so satisfying to see him bleed out, to see the fear in his eyes. He had to pay.”

Rose took a measured breath. It did explain why her fight with Laxus gained her Natalia's trust. The young woman had lost her trust in the authorities of Fiore long ago. She took matters into her own hands, and had no problem defying laws to get her way. They were more alike than Rose wanted to admit.

“I can relate to that”, she mumbled.

The rest of the way, they walked in silence, much to Bickslow's relief. He was glad the two women had found common ground, but he didn't particularly enjoy being reminded of the time Natalia spent in The Northern Gate Inn.

She had been owned as a slave by a despicable person that deserved nothing better than what he got in the end, bleeding out slowly under her hateful gaze.

He never did find out how she got into that situation to begin with, if she was born into it or not. She never told him, and he still had an overwhelming urge to hurt every single person that had ever laid a hand on her. He strongly suspected that was the exact reason she never spoke of her past when he was around.

That she kept working the bars and inns now didn't bother him much. She was her own woman. She could have done something else instead. If no other opportunity showed itself, she would always be welcome to wait tables in The Northern Gate Inn. Nataila didn't want that, though. At least not yet. She wanted to see other cities, to travel, and hear the tales of the men and women all around Fiore. She made her choice, and he respected that.

Reaching a smithy in the middle of the city, Natalia let go of Rose's hand and led on inside with a cheerful, “Heya!”

The large room that dominated the house was well lit, but the air was heavy. A smouldering furnace in the back was more than enough to ensure the stones of the construct would retain their heat indefinitely. Beside it were several thick work benches, one of which was currently occupied by two working men.

“May I introduce, Rufus Lore and Orga Nanagear”, Natalia said, motioning to them one after another.

Rufus was tall and slender figure. Long blond hair fell free around him, assisting the impression. What was most peculiar about him were the clothes dressing him. The screaming red and clear white of his robes didn't fit for a smith in the least. And what gentleman wore his hat indoors? From under the brim and a fine mask, a pair of dark green eyes inspected them with equal scepticism.

Orga was taller still and broad as two. His attire made far more sense. A protective leather apron bound firmly around his waist, it seemed he was the smith in this establishment. Only a black headband kept his wild green mane out of his face as he looked up.

Putting aside the tools they were sharpening, the men stood, and Orga asked gruffly, “Who are these people Nat?”

Rufus's voice was almost silken in contrast to the raspy bark. It sounded almost nostalgic when he spoke, “They are traitors from the capital. I remember, Bickslow and Rose Freeheart.”

Surprised, Bickslow frowned under his visor. “How did you know I lost my title too?”

The man extended his arms toward them demonstratively. “You are walking beside the traitor Rose, and not with her hands in chains. What Guard Master would do that?” Chuckling, he added, “Except perhaps Windsor, that is.”

“Fair enough”, Bickslow grumbled. This Rufus character wasn't entirely to his liking. Far too observant, and not one of his informative bids. His ensemble of ruffled shirt and thick jacket said either noble, successful trader, or both, but those usually didn't keep their ears quite that close to the ground. It was dangerous to know too much.

“What do know about the attempt on The Queen's life that's worth gold then?”, Bickslow demanded.

“Gold, huh?”, Orga grinned and Natalia gave an innocent shrug.

“I asked for thirty. It's an even split for us.”

Repressing a chuckle at the game she was playing, Bickslow nodded, “Which I will pay if it is worth that.”

Rufus thoroughly ran his eyes over Bickslow's robes before walking over to close the shop door and give them some privacy. Positioning himself in close proximity to the rogue, he raked down the hidden form yet again before he finally spoke up.

“Another Seith was in Zinla a little while ago. I remembered him from one of the wanted flyers.”

Bickslow tensed, barely noticing how his breath got stuck in his throat. 'Another Seith'. Rufus had not chosen that phrasing by accident. How could he tell? There was no way for him to have heard it elsewhere. It was a well guarded secret. Only three other people knew about his past, and he would trust each one with his life. What had given him away?

Pulling back his cloak just enough to reveal the hilt of his primary set of daggers, Bickslow kept his eyes on the other's, trying to read him in turn. Rufus didn't react much to the threat, but if that was because he had expected it or because he could defend himself, Bickslow couldn't tell.

“You actually saw him?”, Rose asked astounded, oblivious to the exchange.

“Yea. He bought a dagger from us”, Orga nodded and she clenched her jaw in anger.

“Why didn't you alert the guards then?”

Bickslow shook his head at that. “He would have killed them. It wouldn't have done any good.”

Nodding slowly, Rufus agreed, “That was my thinking as well. If he was in town for a job, he would get it done one way or another. I figured better one life than fifty, and preferably not mine either.”

He was meeting Bickslow's eyes head on, as through he could see them through the metal barrier. It was unnerving. Bickslow glared back just as firmly. If Rufus really could see his eyes, then he would be able to tell it wasn't taken kindly.

Rufus raised his eyebrows, effectively widening his eyes. Bickslow's in contrast slimmed. There was something curious shining in the man's irises. A hint of magic. Familiar. Too familiar. Bickslow stared in astonishment. This was no enemy of his. This was his brother, not by blood, but by upbringing. He had guessed that there would be others like him, but he had never before met another outcast.

For Rufus to reveal himself to him like this was incredibly risky. They were primary targets. One of the first and most important rules they had been taught already as children was this, 'Kill outcasts on sight. No mercy. No failure.' Yet Rufus was so convinced he too had turned his back on The Seith that he would reveal his true identity. Or perhaps it was desperation, grasping for a chance to finally share this horrible secret with someone.

Getting a bewildered look from Rose for his sudden silence, Bickslow cleared his throat.

“And he left for Crocus?”

Rufus nodded. “I believe so. After three days, he walked out of the city toward the north.”

“It was fucking freaky”, Orga complained. “Like his very presence was poison.”

Rufus repressed a sigh, still not taking his eyes of Bickslow as he agreed, “Yes. It was terrifying. A strong aura of evil.”

“I can only imagine”, Bickslow said, forcing himself not to reach out toward the other. It would seem odd to the others if they were too familiar all of a sudden. To think Rufus had to stand here and sell a weapon to someone from the clan. He must have been mortified, convinced his last hour had come.

“This dagger. It wasn't by any chance a decorative piece? Silverwood shaft and silver blade?”, Bickslow asked and the surprised look that Rufus and Orga exchanged would have been enough to answer his question.

The smith nodded, “Yes, that's right. There is no way he attacked The Queen with that, right?”

“Actually, that is exactly what he did”, Bickslow answered and Rufus couldn't repress his next sigh. He had known what it would be used for when he sold it. He too had learned these techniques.

“I am so sorry for our involvement in this.”, he began, bowing low to their visitors. “But there was nothing for us to do. Alerting the Zinla guard would not have ended well, and we didn't know the target would be The Queen herself. We thought it would be a tragedy avoided to keep our peace.”

“It's okay. No one blames you”, Bickslow ensured him, taking the opportunity to place a sympathetic hand on the man's arm.

“Where did he come from? Did he enter from the west?”, he inquired and Orga shook his head.

“Nah. He was in Seven recently.”

“What makes you think that?”, Rose wondered, inspecting the smith that seemed far calmer than his comrade about this entire conversation.

“He had light streaks of blue colour on his cheeks, like they wouldn't wash off entirely”, he answered, stroking over his cheeks demonstratively and smudging rust to his skin in the process.

“The Blue Festival, In honour of the King of Seven”, Rufus added.

“Great! That is most certainly worth the pay”, Rose grinned, glad to have a lead.

Bickslow stepped back from the other outcast and dug in his pouch. Handing the men ten each and another ten to Natalia, he thanked them and bid them farewell. Under no circumstances did he want it to seem like he craved to linger here. Walking outside, he looked back just for a moment to see Rufus do the same. The man tipped his hat a little and he nodded in turn. They both had a new ally now, of the truest kind.

As soon as the door fell shut behind them, Rose asked with vigour, “So what do we do now? Go to Seven?” She couldn't wait to get going.

“No. We can't enter the country without permission. We're too close to the royal family. It could backfire and end up harming Laxus's and Levy's reputation”, Bickslow countered. “What we can do is knock a few heads. Some of the bandits around Crocus Rove are from Seven. That's what my birds have told me at least. Someone over there has a stake in this, and we're going to find out who.”

“Finally! Something to do”, Rose smirked, enthusiastically cracking her knuckles.

“Ehrm”, Natalia made herself known and Bickslow let out the laugh he had kept before.

“You are a devil”, he complimented as he handed her the twenty extra she had cheated herself to.

“You love it”, she smirked back as she counted and pocketed the coins. Satisfied, she looked back up. “Quick fuck for the road? For old times sake?”

Shaking his head, Bickslow declined, “Sorry Baby, I can't give you more than that. I have light pockets now that I've lost my title.”

Taking a step forward and running a hand up his arm, Natalia mused, “How about this then? If you ever get it back, or get your hands on gold in another way, you repay me.”

Considering the offer, Bickslow tilted his head a little. It would be nice to relax a little after this eventful meeting.

“Come on. Indulge me Bixy”, Natalia flirted and he gave in.

“Aright then.”

Pointing to his belt, she demanded, “And I want that head as ransom.”

Bickslow pulled back a little, so she added quickly, “You can keep the teeth.”

With a sigh, Bickslow nodded. “Fine. You can have the head. But if I pay you back, I want that back as well.”

“Don't worry. I'll cherish it.”

Slightly disturbed by the morbid flirt, Rose excused herself. “I'll go see what Sam dug out of the armoury for me and get him to provide some rations. We should get going first thing tomorrow. We don't want to spend winter on the road.”

“Good call”, Bickslow agreed. “I'll see you back at the castle.”

“Use the front door this time, will you?”

“No promises”, he grinned and Rose shook her head.

“Idiot.”

  



	28. Autumn Child

Levy screamed at the top of her lungs, roaring in her effort to channel her suffering into anger instead.

Clenching her hands, she caused both her husband at her right and her champion at her left to cringe. It was incredibly satisfying in this moment of unspeakable pain to at least let them suffer with her, see how the two brutish men lost their calm when she squeezed the blood out of their fingers.

Laxus winced and it probably shouldn't encourage her so much, but she gathered new strength. Taking a deep breath and calling again, she dug her nails into his fingers and he couldn't help a hiss of pain.

Wendy and Sherria felt a little bad for the two men that Levy let her agony out on. The midwife on the other hand gave The King a sceptical glance when he couldn't keep quiet. It was undignified. His wife was giving life to their child and he had the audacity to show his own discomfort. It was bad enough that he had allowed another man in the room. A guard ought to stay outside. Had it been up to her, she would have never agreed to it. When she started out, even a husband would not have been tolerated within the chambers.

Shaking her head, she focused her efforts on the two young healers that were observing their very first delivery. While not their main focus of study, it was an imperative part of their education. For example, tradition had it no magic shall be involved to ease the mother's pain, since any resulting complications could seriously harm both mother and child.

“Almost there”, the midwife encouraged. Steadying the little blood covered head that emerged, she helped along until the child arrived and could be dried off and wrapped into a silken cloth.

Levy slumped together in relief. She was hurting, so much, but mostly she was exhausted. Letting go of the two men at her sides, she let her hands fall to the bed instead and sighed. A shrill cry echoed through the chambers and she smiled tiredly.

Carefully tucking the little screaming bundle in, the midwife placed it down on The Queen's chest and she inspected the red and dissatisfied looking raisin she had given birth to. Her child. The joy washing through her almost allowed her to forget everything that came before.

“They're adorable”, she whispered.

“It's a boy”, Wendy informed her and she could feel her heart leap even higher. Thank the gods. That bought them time with the construction of the rove.

“The Crown Prince of Fiore”, Sherria smiled. “He's so tiny.”

“He'll grow strong”, Laxus stated confidently.

“Are you still gonna name him Lilthen?”, the midwife interrupted while wiping blood off her hands.

Laxus gave a hum. “It's not really a boy's name, is it?”

“I wouldn't think so”, the woman agreed, clearly not approving of the notion in the least.

“Just change it a little”, Gajeel suggested. “Like… Panther Lily. It's still got 'lil' in it, and 'the' in the first name.”

All eyes turned to him and he quickly added, “Not that it is my place to speak!”

“It most definitively isn't. You should not even be here”, the midwife insisted yet again.

Waving her off, Laxus shook his head, “No, I like it. A beautiful flower, fitting for the future king of Fiore.”

The midwife grumbled as she picked a little pouch from her bag. Taking a pinch of glittering dust from it, she quickly stated, “I bless thy, Panther Lily Dreyar. By the twelve gods, shall thy life be basked in light”, and sprinkled it over the child's head, causing him to start crying aloud again.

With her work officially done, she packed her things and left. The moment the door fell shut behind her, Levy burst into a tired but hearty laughter. Gajeel and Laxus exchanged a bewildered look.

“Levy?”, Gajeel asked and she snorted.

“She really hates us, doesn't she?”

“I guess”, the knight agreed, not sure why that was funny.

“Pfft. This is the weirdest royal family this country has probably ever seen. At every turn, we piss people off, change the rules, and break tradition.” Her giggling died down and she reached out to stroke a hand over her crying child. “This country will be much better once you're old enough to understand it. I'll make sure of that Lily. I'll make sure…”

With another sigh, Levy closed her eyes and fell asleep.

After a short but much needed rest, she slowly came to only to find Gajeel and her child cuddled together beside her on the bed. Lily was sleeping peacefully in the knight's embrace, and he was inspecting the tiny being, his smile softer than any she had seen on him before.

His eyes snapped to her and his mouth curved up even more. “You're awake.”

“Mm”, Levy mumbled. She sighed happily when he reached out to stroke a hand over her cheek, but rather than matching it, his expression fell again.

“What's wrong?”, Levy wondered.

“I will barely get a second alone with you again, now will I?”, Gajeel said and her heart suddenly felt far heavier than before.

“No, probably not”, she murmured. She had been aware of this beforehand, but now it was real, and it hurt. Her heart ached at the thought, and she could see it hurt Gajeel just as much.

Finding one of his hands and entwining her fingers with his, she whispered, “You know I love you, don't you? You and Panther Lily are everything to me.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “I know. I know that Levy. Still… I know it is egoistic, but I want you for myself. I guess I'm jealous because he isn't mine”, he said, looking down at the tiny human Levy had brought to Earth Land.

She pulled the knight's hand to her face and pressed a kiss to the calloused skin. Snuggling against the familiar warmth and smell, she let her exhaustion rock her back to sleep.

  


Despite the young healers insisting she still needed rest, Levy got up as soon as she could. Calling The Table together, she strode into the meeting hall with her newborn on her arm, and could tell with one look around the room what the councillors and advisers thought of her behaviour.

Those that she had appointed recently were shocked, unsure what to make of it. Most of the core members knew her well enough to have seen it coming, but the older men didn't seem as convinced that she knew what she was doing. That Fabrizio would be keen to stick to tradition didn't surprise her, but to see Darton frowning at her as well was disappointing.

Raising her head a little higher, she strode around to her husband's side. Turning to her champion, she carefully handed Phanter Lily to him before taking a seat.

Gajeel inspected the little bundle of life that lay resting in his arms once more. Lily was calm, looking up at him with as much awe as he felt meeting the curious orange eyes.

Levy raised a hand to demand silence and the last whispers died down. “Panther Lily should have a godfather. I want to get back to work”, she declared and the silence became heavy. Eyes glanced around the room, checking for alliance before anyone dared speak their mind. Most looked to Fabrizio, seeing as he would have to bless such a bond to make it official.

Darton took one look at Laxus and then nodded, “Agreed. It would be best if Your Highness could devote at least part of her day to work. She is after all the most important person in this room.”

The pointed look this comment gained him from The King as well as The Chair didn't bother him in the least. He continued calmly, “Besides, The Crown Prince shouldn’t be left unattended in these times.”

“You say that like it is a war strategy”, Fabrizio complained. “A child needs its mother. This should not be put to the test for the sake of convenience. It is human nature.”

“But it is a war strategy”, Levy stated. “As far as we know there is someone out to kill the both me and Laxus. It is not too far fetched to assume Phanter Lily is a target as well. I think we all agree that loosing him is not an option.”

Evergreen nodded, glad to oblige the indirect order. “Yes. It is imperative to protect The Crown Prince. Someone has to be assigned to him. Do you wish me to make suggestions from the ranks?”

Levy smiled, glad to have the High Constable's full support, but she shook her head. “No. I know who it will be. The Knight Gajeel Redfox.”

Gajeel's head snapped up at the mention of his name. Levy wanted him to protect Lily? To act godfather? Spend time with him, teach him, be one of the closest people to him throughout his childhood? There was nothing he would love more, except perhaps running away with Levy. He held his breath in anticipation, rocking little Lily in his arms.

“He is already your champion. There are many others that could fill this position”, Freed pointed out helpfully.

Meeting his eyes, Levy slowly shook her head. “No. This is my son we are talking about. I trust Gajeel. He will be the godfather.”

Realising she had thought this through, The Chair nodded his agreement. He wouldn't go against her word unless Laxus himself ordered it, and so far The King sat quiet.

Fabrizio however didn't like the complicated combination of bonds The Queen was creating. The champion was far too close to her for decency already, even staying at her side during the delivery.

“With all due respect, My Queen, there are may trustworthy and strong fighters in your army. There is no reason to make things complicated. Knight Redfox already has an honourable position at your side.”

Shaking his head and waving a hand in the general direction of the priest, Darton said, “No no. Tradition is there to be kept. That should be something we agree upon, no? Redfox has been named by the mother herself. You know as well as I do that this cannot be ignored. I am sure The Queen knows what she is doing.”

More and more voices made themselves heard and before long every member of the Table and all the advisers were discussing and arguing. All could agree that the new prince needed a champion, but that didn't mean it had to be another parental figure. What about Levy's work if she raised Lily on her own then? And if all this, why Gajeel of all people? Would not someone else be better suited?

Laxus thought hard. He tried to zone the chatting out as he sorted his thoughts. Of course Lily would need someone to take care of him. It had to be more than just protection. Levy would work. There was no doubt in his mind about that. She would do it both because she had to and because she wanted to. Even if he ordered her to stay away, she wouldn't oblige.

Someone had to make sure Lily was entertained, was exploring, and that he would learn the virtues of kindness, honesty, and loyalty early in life. They wouldn't be able to devote enough time to their son's upbringing, not as long as Fiore still stood on shaky legs. But was Gajeel the best person to do that in their stead? He was loyal, that much Laxus knew, but Levy clearly saw a whole lot more in him than just loyalty and a strong sword arm.

He was the one Levy would have picked as her husband had she been free to do so. He was the one she wanted as family, not Laxus. Her marriage was just her ticket to the throne, Laxus the face of power she worked and pulled strings around. He didn't particularly mind that, but this was his child, not Gajeel's. That's when a light went for him.

That was the exact problem. It wasn't Gajeel's child, but the knight looked at little Lily with the same soft care as Laxus himself, because he wanted it to be. That is why Levy insisted on him as godfather. That way Lily really would be his. They would be father and son in a way, even if not by blood.

To his own surprise, that thought didn't irk Laxus particularly. While he didn't know how much Gajeel could bring to the table as caretaker of others' children, he was absolutely certain the knight would make for a great father. He would be kind and nourishing, and protect his child with his life. Well aware that he himself wouldn't have the time to properly care for Lily even if he devoted every free minute to the task, Laxus made his decision.

He stood to hush the room again and determined, “I agree with my wife on this point. Gajeel should be the one to do it. He will be the godfather of Phanter Lily Dreyar.”

“Why?”, Fabrizio questioned and he met the priest's eyes with an intense stare.

“Because I am your king and I said so.”

“In my opinion...”, the man began and Darton slammed a hand down on the table to startle and interrupt him.

“No one asked you for it.”

Affronted, Fabrizio clenched his jaw at the archmage. “Excuse me?”

Darton folded his hands together and rested his chin against them with an audible exhale. “The King did not ask your opinion, and last I checked there was no councillor of family matters, so unless you consider turning The Church against this decision, and by extension against The King of Fiore himself, keep your peace and bless the godfather.”

Huffing a few times, Fabrizio finally threw his hands up. “Aright then, fine, but I still have to say that I find it silly.”

Sitting beside the stenographer, Freed took the feather from him before he could bring more than '...fine' to paper. Setting the writing tool back in the inkwell, he smiled, “So duly noted.”

Evergreen had to purse her lips to repress laughter when Fabrizio slimmed his eyes at The Chair. While Freed's beef with Rose had been problematic to say the least, this was a fight she would support to the very end.

Gajeel looked down as he felt a tug and saw that Lily had caught a hold of his hair. Their eyes met and Lily gave a happy squeak that cracked him, letting out a giggle as well before he remembered that he was in the presence of the assembled Table and quickly regained his composure.

Laxus walked over to them, stroking a hand over his child's head before looking up and placing it on Gajeel's shoulder instead. “Take care of him and protect him, always. And once he's old enough, we'll teach him what he needs in life together.”

Gajeel bowed his head. If he had ever doubted that Laxus would do everything in his power to do right by Levy, it was now wiped from his mind. Laxus would even give her lover a place in their family to make her happy. Gajeel had a hard time steadying his voice as he realised this was truly happening, that he would truly be allowed this joy. “Thank you, My King.”

“Welcome to the family, Gajeel.”

With that, The King turned to Fabrizio, who reluctantly got up to bestow the blessing, as not to cause a serious crack in the relationship between The Crown and The Church of Zentopia.

  



	29. On Crocus Rove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's try to wrap this up before I forget the storyline

Rose glanced toward the bushes that grew at the edge of the road.

The old rove had always led through the woods, but now that the plans for the new construction had been laid out, it became apparent just how stupid that truly was. The thicket made for a perfect hideout for bandits and thieves alike. There was always someone lurking beyond the trees.

“What the hell are they waiting for?”, Rose asked irritably.

“Maybe we look like too much trouble”, Bickslow shrugged.

The heavy cloaks hiding them and the face guards allowing them anonymity practically screamed danger. It was no wonder the bandits were hesitant to engage. He would be too if he saw a caravan of this much worth employing but two mercenaries. Either the traders were royally stupid or the mercenaries were ridiculously strong. When their life depended on the answer, most sane men avoided a guessing game.

“If those bastards don't attack soon, I will”, Rose huffed and he sniggered.

“Patience. It's easier to react than to act.”

“To you perhaps, Weirdo.”

Patience was what they had practised most during the past month, but it would never be Rose's forte. Escorting trading caravans back and forth between Hargeon and Zinla was hardly an exciting job, but it was by far easiest way to run into bandits, and that was exactly what they wanted. Especially the stronger, more organised groups that might have ties to Seven would be interested in this kind of transport.

A few of the people they had managed to 'interview' so far had confirmed that Seveners were among some of the greater alliances, but none had any helpful advice on how to find them.

The bushes shifted, pulling Bickslow out of his thoughts. Drawing his daggers under his cloak, he nodded to the carriage to signal halt.

“Here they come.”

“Finally”, Rose smirked. Stepping back, she reached for her arbalest.

Realising they had been detected, several armed men spew out of the thicket. It wasn't quite what Bickslow and Rose had hoped for, though. These bandits were poorly equipped, with but leather and bits of mail protecting them. Swinging clubs from behind small shields, they made a beeline for the cart.

Rose buried a bolt in the head of one, punching right through the thin leather cap. While pulling the string taunt anew, she let Bickslow cover her.

The rogue didn't allow their aggressors near. The unprotected throats of the men were easy targets for his blades and with a few swift steps two more lay at his feet. The rest turned on their heels, dashing back into the woods with twice the speed they had arrived.

Looking back to see if Rose was ready to take another shot or if he would be forced to sprint after, Bickslow saw that one daredevil had not turned around, instead dashing right toward the arbalist.

“Rose!”

She looked up, saw his finger point toward her, and instinctively ran from the danger before whirling around and raising her weapon. Her attacker was quicker, reaching her before she could pull the trigger. Shielding herself with the arbalest, Rose kicked for his legs. Bickslow had reached her by then to let his blades find a third throat.

Turning back to her original target, Rose cursed aloud. Running to the edge of the woods, she squinted into the shade. Spotting the slightest movement, she took her chances and released the bolt only to hear a satisfying yell. Smirking triumphantly, she drew her sword and headed into the ticket to collect her prize.

“Yell if anyone comes back”, Bickslow ordered the caravan leader before hurrying after her and out of sight despite the shocked complaints.

From earlier experience, he knew she didn't need any help getting information out of somebody, but there were still others around and he wouldn't risk her being jumped if they happened to be loyal to their comrade.

Not far from the road, they found the man whose scream they had heard. With the bolt lodged in his side, he tried his best to crawl onward, but it didn't propel him forward with any impressive speed.

Sauntering around him, Rose pulled her face guard down and smiled, “Now then, the three of us will have a little chat if you don't mind.”

“Fuck you!”, the bandit spat back, flailing an arm in her general direction.

Raising an eyebrow at the brave, or alternatively dull-witted man, Rose chuckled, “That's not particularly polite.”

Stepping onto the outstretched hand, she hissed, “You should lie still if you hope to walk away from an injury like that, you know.”

“She's right. Wiggling around that much will just cause you to bleed even more, or worse allow that thing sticking out your side to find your vitals”, Bickslow nodded.

Clenching his teeth and finally giving up on pulling his hand free from under Rose's boot, the bandit glanced up to Bickslow with hatred written in his eyes. It was clear they weren't being convincing enough yet.

“Are you from Seven?”, Bickslow asked and the man frowned at him.

“What? No.”

“Should I believe him?”, Bickslow wondered out loud. Shrugging a little to himself, he crouched down to get a closer look at the man. Tugging his cloak back to reveal Lie, one of his old daggers from the clan, he observed how the bandit's eyes widened in fear. He recognised the black figure etched into the hilt at once.

“Sure about that?”, Bickslow asked and he shook his head, aiming to edge away again even though his hand was still trapped.

“I'm not! I swear! I'm not!”

“But you know someone that is, right?”

The man froze. Clenching his jaw, he drew his eyes from the old fashioned dagger and shook his head. “No.”

Shrugging, Bickslow sighed, “Well then you're no use. Let's just kill him.”

“No! Please! I do, okay? I do! There are Seveners among the Ravens!”

“Raven Tail?”, Rose asked and he nodded violently.

“Where?”, Bickslow demanded and he quieted again. Breathing hard, he closed his eyes.

“They'll kill me.”

“It's really simple. Either you tell us and we give you a fighting chance, or you keep quiet and I'll kill you right here and now”, Rose barked.

“Fine”, the man nodded. “Kill me then. Just make it quick.”

“Fool. You don't really think we're going to be any kinder than the Ravens, do you? If you give your life here, it will be at least as painful. I'll make sure of that”, Rose grinned. Shifting her weight so her heel dug into the trapped fingers. She smirked before sharply twisting her ankle, threatening to break the fragile bones.

The man whined under the weight, but bit his lip rather than open his mouth.

Grabbing the bolt lodged in the man's body, Bickslow jested, “Hey, I heard some of the guards by the new rove that have lost family to the bandits have taken a liking to revenge torture. How about we hand him over to them instead? That would surely be fun to watch and we might even get a gold reward.” Chuckling, he gave the weapon a little tug and got a scream of agony.

“Stop! I'll talk! Please!”

Letting go, Bickslow tilted his head to the right and mused, “We're all ears.”

Taking a few deep breaths, the bandit made an attempt to control his voice. “There is a camp north of Akane, about halfway to Clover Town. It's just out of view from the East Cut River, west bank. If you're looking for Seveners, that's where you will find them. I don't know why they're there or how long they'll stay, but they're there, I swear.”

“Good enough”, Bickslow determined and Rose lifted her foot.

Pulling his hand against his chest, the bandit curled together with a grunt.

“If my senses aren't betraying me, your buddies are still close by. They should find you soon enough and help you up”, Bickslow stated, dropping all venom from his voice.

“Try not to move until then”, he added before standing back up.

Rose instead crouched down to the bandit. Snapping her fingers, she made sure she had his attention before warning, “If I see you anywhere near the rove again, I will kill you. Don't try me.”

  


Once the cart had reached its destiny in Hargeon, the two fugitives made their way to Akane, a few days further down the road. While they had many friends in Hargeon, that also meant more people that would be able to recognise them, more gossip, and possibly detection. They needed a more organised from of assistance in order to plan action against the encampment at the East Cut River.

Reaching the city was easy enough, but convincing the men protecting the gates for the Akane Guard to let them pass was a whole other matter. It was no wonder with everything that had happened, all the abductions, murders, and the terror the young city had experienced in the past year.

“Just tell Cobra that I'm here”, Bickslow insisted, but the guards held their ground.

“You have no authority any longer”, the woman leading this shift argued and he took a measured breath. Raising his voice wouldn't get them anywhere. Luckily Rose held her peace at least. She couldn't be seen under her deep hood.

“I'm not ordering. I'm asking. Cobra is a friend of mine. Just give him word. That is all I want.”

“I will, just as soon as you reveal whom it is you're travelling with”, the guard nodded.

“That's irrelevant”, Bickslow tried.

“I wouldn't think so.”

Rose nudged his side, whispering, “Let's just go.”

“You're not going anywhere”, the woman ordered, motioning her guards to engage. Bickslow cursed under his breath as crossbows were aimed at them. He could see Rose shift back behind him, tense and ready for a fight.

“Don't do this. Please”, he tried, afraid the situation would escalate entirely.

“Don't move”, the guard countered and he nodded.

“We're not moving”, he ensured, holding his hands before himself demonstratively.

“What's going on?!”, an irritated authority figure demanded from within the city.

Bickslow exhaled in relief. He would recognise that melodic voice anywhere. Hearing the wooden construct creak as she climbed the barricades, a smile formed on his lips. As soon as the familiar face popped up over the spiked fortification, he gave a little wave.

“Cubellios! Long time no see.”

“Bickslow?”

Kinana was more than surprised to see her teacher standing outside the gates. Turning to the guards, she ordered firmly, “Let them in.”

Jumping down from the barricades, she greeted the man she still considered her teacher even after his disgrace. “It's good to see you, even if it is under these circumstances.”

“That's my line”, he smirked. “I see you've made a name for yourself. I'm proud. I knew you would be great.”

“I had a good teacher”, Kinana said her thanks.

Inspecting the mysterious hooded figure beside him, she wondered, “And who's that?”

Leaning in close, Bickslow whispered to her, “Its kind of a sticky situation.”

Nodding in understanding, the woman led the two visitors through the city and to the humble excuse for a guard castle. Once inside and out of view, she insisted. “Who is that and why are you here?”

Rose tugged her hood down and Kinana's eyes went wide.

“Rose?!”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing out of prison?!”

“It's a long story”, Bickslow chuckled.

“Did Laxus send you?”

“Kinda.”

Calling for the Guard Master Cobra and food for the exhausted travellers, they settled and told their story.

  


Bickslow was more than satisfied with the week's work. They ought to have an answer for Laxus before winter's wait. With the revenge thirsty Akane Guard at their backs, it would be an easy feat to destroy the encampment and capture whoever was in charge.

Bickslow noticed how Rose shivered beside him. The simple dwelling they had been offered for the time being didn't feature a hearth, and winter was just around the corner. Akane wasn't as near the warm currents of the ocean as the west and much more prone to freezing temperatures.

Turning around, he lifted his blanket and tossed the edge over Rose as well, edging closer.

An angry glare met him. “What do you think you're doing?”

“You're freezing”, Bickslow stated, but her frown merely deepened.

“What? Do you think I'm going for something more? After what you did to Laxus, I have no interest in you any longer.”

“Not good enough any more, am I?”, Rose chuckled. It was so obviously a lie. He had visited her, talked to her and held her company in the dungeons even after all that she had done.

“No. And besides, I never was one for older women.”

At that, the redhead sat up in bed, growling back at him darkly. “Watch it Rouge.”

“Or what?”, Bickslow challenged in amusement.

Rose grabbed a hold of his arm to pin him in place and rolled over, motioning a strike to his throat. The rogue just looked back at her unimpressed. He knew she hadn't drawn her weapon. Had she, he would have actually resisted. Rose could tell as well that his immobility wasn't because he had been overwhelmed.

“You are incredibly annoying”, she stated.

Bickslow smirked up at her. “You're only just noticing that now?”

“Fuck you”, Rose spat and his smirk grew into a manic grin.

Taking hold of her arm in turn, he leaned up and pressed a hasty kiss to her lips. He held on tight, making sure that if Rose decided against having him, she at least wouldn't hurt him in the process of making that clear.

To his delight, it was unnecessary. Rose arched down to return the gesture.

“One night, just to warm up”, Bickslow made clear before he tugged the blankets out of the way.

“Sounds promising.”

  



	30. A Winning Strike

Cobra was moderately annoyed. To think Rose and Bickslow had spent all this time on the rove, escorting merchants between Zinla and Hargeon to make it look like they were simple mercenaries, all without the guards from any city along the way noticing a thing.

He had great respect for the highly skilled fighters of the court, but that a few gifted warriors could outmatch armies was a disturbing thought, be it by strength or with wits. Since seeing the dark side of worship, he wasn't inclined to believe in the supernatural, but the old legends of warriors developing their own type of magic by devotion to the art alone did seem to hold some merit when faced with people such as these. Perhaps he too had something similar coursing through him, with his hearing being as sensitive as it was.

Letting the two troublemakers out of his sights, Cobra instead instructed his men to sink the little boats that were anchored by the riverside. They were not about to let anyone escape this attack. The camp Bickslow spoke of was less than an hour into the woods. If he had any say in the matter, there wouldn't be much left of it by day's end.

The plan was Kinana's. Her and Bickslow were to sneak into the encampment, capture whomever was in charge, and drag them out. If, or rather when they were discovered, Rose would set fire to the barricades from the west, forcing the bandits out toward the river where Cobra and his guards lay in waiting.

It was almost too easy.

Now his men would at least get the workout they needed and Cobra was glad to have one more chance to fight beside his liege. No matter how often Rose claimed their bond was severed by her betrayal, he would never see her as less. She saved his life and fought by his side for years, trained him. Now it was his turn to save hers, by helping her redeem herself.

After today, his debt would truly be paid.

He just hoped none of the guards would realise whom the hooded figures they were cooperating with truly were. He could name at least five that would cross their arms in disobedience and report back to Crocus in an instant, if not foolishly attack the traitors.

When the last riverboat had disappeared into the still blue, Cobra nodded to Kinana and she pulled her hood over her head, ducking between the trees and vanishing from sight.

For her too, this was a day of repayment. Bickslow had seen her potential and taught her both how to fight and, perhaps more importantly, to be confident in her own ability and strength.

Even though Cobra had initially protested her idea, she was confident in her decision to be at Bickslow's side during the attack. They were the only two stealthy and nimble enough to pull it off. She knew that Cobra worried, though.

She wasn't as experienced as the rest, and she knew that he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt again. He often tried to talk her out of going on missions, urging her to stay within the city limits. To him it was scary enough that she had been injured once while guarding The King's chambers with Bickslow. The scars were still visible on her body. She wouldn't let that stop her, though.

Cobra knew this too. He knew she could handle herself these days, having seen her in the practice range. So he waited, nervously.

He couldn't say exactly how long he had expected the operation to take, but definitely not this long. Shifting in his hiding spot, he focused his hearing. The rustling of the leaves around him made it harder to find what he was searching for, but finally he managed to pinpoint the noise he wanted. Kinana's steps beside those of Bickslow.

Something was being dragged. A fight ensued. A few clinks and a dull thud. Someone fell. Their steps became quicker and quicker, hurried even. Rose moved. Something rustled. A crash.

Screams echoed through the woods and the guards drew their weapons, eager to fight. Cobra signalled for them to wait, reminding them of the plan. They would get their fun, but they had to show a little bit of patience first.

Before long, men and women were fleeing the fire that gained momentum behind them. With their armour halfway on and their bags hastily stuffed, they were an easy target. The first ran past the ambush without taking notice and reached the riverside before realising what had happened.

Their boats were gone. A sudden fire had erupted. It was a trap.

They whirled around and shouted their warning, but it was too late. From all around them, well prepared and angry guards spew from the thicket, and they were indiscriminate about whom they cut down.

Battles like these were often described the same way as grand clashes and sieges when retold by bards and chroniclers, but they rarely lasted very long. There was no grand speech, no stare down, no banging on shields and calling of war cries, and little to no technique or valour involved. It was just a blurry massacre of bashing and cutting in the hopes that more blood would be shed on one side than on the other.

Overseeing the chaos, Cobra tried his best to direct the guards that hadn't entirely lost their heads toward any fleeing bandits that he could hear clamber away in the distance.

When the battle died down and the forest floor was covered in blood and carnage, he began reeling the men and women in again, handing them buckets and shovels to control the fire they had started. Luckily, it was a cold day and the fire easier to contain, but in woods this thick it still required axe and sweat to finally ensure the flames would not lay waste to the entire area.

“We did it Erik!”

He turned around to see Kinana skipping toward him happily.

“We got him!”

Cobra took a hold of her and tilted his head to the right and to the left, searching her for injuries.

“Don't worry. I'm fine. The blood isn't mine”, she ensured with a smile. He acted tough, but when it came to her he was reduced to a frigging bundle of nerves. It was truly endearing.

“Really. I'm fine”, she repeated and he finally stilled.

“Thank Ophiuchus.”

Rose and Bickslow sauntered after the excited rogue. Bickslow had the bandit leaders hanging limply over his shoulder.

“Erik huh? Not even I knew your real name”, he teased and Cobra clicked his tongue.

“Repeat it and I will stab you.”

Knowing well how much he disliked being called by his childhood name by anyone that wasn't included in his definition of family, Rose laughed heartedly.

  


While Cobra and Kinana argued they could return to Akane and deal with their captive there, Bickslow and Rose refused. It wouldn't be wise to bring a man into the city limits if they were going to brutalise him. With what authority would Cobra be able to tell his men off from such behaviour when he so clearly had engaged in it himself, or at the very least tolerated it? No, they had to conduct their 'interview' out here.

Once the men had begun their march back to the city and Cobra was sure they were out of ordinary human hearing range, they brought the captive down to the shore of the East Cut River. After tying his hands and feet together firmly, Rose grabbed a hold of the man's hair and shoved him face first into the cold blue.

Waking to the river invading his nostrils, the man trashed in her grasp. Pulling him back up, she let him cough the water and snot out before turning him over and pressing the blade of her sword against his throat.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

The man looked around himself in shock, spotting the severed limbs of his fellow bandits scattered around the mossy forest floor. His eyes darkening, he glared back up at the redhead standing over him.

“Fuck you, you cunt.”

She kicked him in the side and buried her sword into the ground right by his head.

“Say that again. I dare you.”

Watching Rose beat, cut, and halfway drown the bandit without getting a helpful word out of him, Bickslow finally got up. It was clear the man wasn't that easily persuaded. If it was at all possible to beat it out of him, there wouldn't be enough life left in him to leave him breathing. The entire session was a waste of time and effort, and of Kinana's stomach contents.

“I think you two can leave. This might take a while”, he said, but Cobra shook his head.

“You're fugitives too. I'm not leaving you.”

“Fair enough”, Bickslow nodded.

He headed over to Rose and the man bleeding under her feet.

“Do you mind?”

“Go for it”, she sighed, stepping aside to let him have a go.

Picking the man up by what was left of his torn tunic, Bickslow threw him over his shoulder and then stepped behind a tree.

Frowning, Rose followed, but when she ducked into the thicket he was nowhere to be found.

“Bickslow?! What the hell?!”

Holding a hand over the bandit's mouth, Bickslow slid his visor up. He saw how the bandit's eyes went wide in horror as the connection was established. The figure on Bickslow's nose tingled a little as the magic sparked between them in a green hue. He could feel the other's terror, his pain, his soul, it's struggle, and finally it's surrender.

“A Seith attacked The Queen. What do you know about that?”, Bickslow demanded wordlessly.

Recalling the events, the bandit involuntarily let him take part and have a look.

Raven Tail's Kurohebi was sent first and finished his mission. He was celebrated before The Reaper came knocking, causing the rest of Raven Tail to flee the country.

Once a new queen ascended to the throne, the next assassin was called for, but no one wanted to get involved now that they knew who would come for them in turn. The Seith never said no to a well-paid job, though.

So it was them the bandit contacted, leaving a note with the target name and a generous amount of coin by one of the old hanging trees of Seven.

The mission failed and the coin returned to him, appearing on his bedside table one night. Thus he too returned it to it's owner. Only a portion was missing. It was what had been used to bribe and pay off helping hands along the way and purchase equipment.

Bickslow growled in anger as he realised what had happened, how the men had managed to find their way into the castle one after the other.

Pulling his visor back over his eyes, he sighed. The man now motionless in his grasp was past saving. Bickslow tried to convince himself he was being merciful, not letting the man suffer through more of Rose's treatment, but he knew that a tortured soul was in no way a better end.

Taking a hold of the man's head, he gave the neck a sharp twist until he heard it crack and the soul fled his presence. Letting the body fall out of the tree he had perched himself into, he leaned back with another deep sigh, one of relief.

Thank the gods, The Seith had returned the pay at least. They deemed the job not worth the coin after loosing one man. That meant the pay required to target Levy again was insurmountable for even most nobles.

Hearing Rose and Cobra raging under him, Bickslow finally came out of his hiding place and elegantly dropped onto the mossy ground below.

“What the hell are you doing?! Why did you kill him?!”, Cobra demanded angrily.

“There was no other way. I got the information that we need.”

“What the hell are you talking about?! No other way?! How the hell was there no other way?!”

Bickslow lowered his head to show his respect. “I'm sorry but I cannot explain it. All I can do is guarantee that Laxus will let this one slide.”

“That's not the point!”, Kinana barked. It hurt to hear her too being infuriated with him, shocked and disgusted by his actions.

“I know it's not.”

“By the gods!”, Cobra roared. He pointed between Rose and Bickslow as he berated them. “Listen up you two! You are not leaving! You will wait out the winter with us, and once the snow melts we will escort the both of you to Crocus and present you to the king as prisoners! You've done your jobs and your privileges have run out. Now you're just traitors and as Guard Master of Akane, I _will_ bring you in. Is that clear?!”

Bickslow nodded and Cobra turned to the red haired woman instead.

“Is that clear?!”

“Yes. Thank you for you help”, she nodded as well. “I'm sorry we caused you so much trouble.”

Turning around with anger radiating off him, Cobra led on back to the city.

Once there, Bickslow and Rose stuck their heads together and he explained to her what he had found out. He detailed how Kurohebi had made his way inside and what they could expect to happen now.

No matter how much she pressed, though, he wouldn't tell her how he managed to break the bandit in under a minute where she had worked for over an hour with little result. Nor would he explain why he elected to murder their one lead, which took them almost half a year to find in the first place.

  


When the first snow fell a few days later, the city packed up and moved. Akane was too rudimentary a city to make for a good hideout during the harsh winter's wait. In four or five years, the residents could perhaps stay in their homes and hope to hold the heat, but until then an annual migration to Hargeon had to take place. By the harbour, the men, women, and children could gather around communal hearths and eat of the preserved fish, corn, and root vegetables.

Having no reason to hide any longer, the two traitors revealed themselves and were welcomed in the harbour city like heroes. The other warriors and guards were all but fighting about who would be allowed to buy them the next drink.

Especially Rose was celebrated with great furore when they found rooms at The Hargeon Rest. Songs were dedicated to her, telling of the sister of the greatest bandit alive, her venture to crown a king, the years of service at his side in which she transformed the country, and finally the martyr return to banditry.

No attempt of hers to correct the story was heeded. Her legend had grown greater than her person. A grand story with a great protagonist was far more important than keeping a historically accurate record of the events. Figuring Levy would write the actuality of history down in the archives, Rose finally let it go and allowed for the festive hyperbole.

“What a hero you are My Lady”, a familiar voice teased and she turned her head in surprise.

“Nathalia. What brings you to Hargeon?”

“Why the Winter's Wait of course. I wouldn't miss the opportunity to sit by the fire and hear all the stories. Men from half Fiore congregate here, and along with them feast sailors from Minstrel, Bosco, Stella, Joya, and even Midi some years.”

“So you like stories?”, Rose teased.

“I do. Why? Do you have one for me?”, Nathalia flirted back.

“That depends.”

“Oh?”

Nathalia set her beer down on the table beside Rose's own and slipped down on the bench beside her, pressing up against her side tightly. Tucking the arbalest's arm against her chest, she smiled sweetly.

“Do you need an extra beer or some warmth to remember them? Or perhaps both?”

Tipsy and relaxed, Rose didn't hesitate to take a good long look down the low cut tunic. “My stories are rather gruesome, though”, she warned.

“I don't mind that. But perhaps we should find a more private place as not to disturb any more fragile minds. I might need a strong arm to hold me as I hear the details”, Nathalia flirted and Rose took the bait, getting out of her seat with a bright grin and her beer in hand.

Bickslow sighed as he saw the two women disappear together. So much for his own nightly company. Both the women he enjoyed sharing bed with were now otherwise occupied.

  



	31. More Than Enough

Levy woke to the unkind sound of windows rattling in the wind. It was snowing heavily outside.

Surely her childhood home was covered in a thick blanket by now, isolated from the world for many weeks. Feeling nostalgic, she watched the flakes of snow gather at the corner of the windowsill before finally sitting up on the suddenly far too big and soft bed.

She noticed Laxus was already up, despite the sun barely having risen. Pulling a nightgown around herself, she stepped out of the chilly bedchamber to find him at the large oak table that dominated the sitting room. He was hunched over a report, staring down at papers without taking a single word in.

He didn't even notice Levy approach. Gently putting a hand on his shoulder, she felt him jerk under her fingers before he finally looked up.

“Are you aright?”

“Yea”, Laxus lied. Picking the stack of paper up, he busied his hands with making sure they were lying edge on edge before putting them back down and once more staring at the ink markings. He could read by now, but on days when focus was hard to come by it still just looked like cryptic runes to him.

“Laxus?”, Levy insisted and he let out a deep sigh.

“I worry about him is all.”

“Bickslow?”, Levy wondered and he nodded.

“Yea. There haven't been any news whatsoever. It's been months.”

Placing her other hand on the second broad shoulder, Levy pressed her palms down against the tense muscles in a slow circular motion.

“That's a good sign, though. They are both well known. If they were dead, it would be more likely we hear something.”

That was how she herself calmed her nerves whenever she was reminded of Rose. Truthfully, she worried. She worried Rose might be captured, tortured, or dead. But those worried by what could be were merely being unproductive. Foreshadowing was as useless as reminiscing.

“I guess you're right”, Laxus nodded.

He took one of the slender warm hands in his own.

“Thanks.”

Letting go, he took a deep breath and determined that he was going to read now. Clearing his throat, he blinked longer than usual and began to read the report in front of him.

“Sorry to break your focus, but I will be late to the meeting today”, Levy interrupted. “There is something I need to take care of first. I will be by as soon as I can manage.”

“Okay. We will update you on anything you miss afterwards”, Laxus nodded before he sunk back into the pages.

Levy took her time getting dressed. She ought to hurry, so that she would be ready and able to attend The Table meeting as soon as possible, but her body wasn't cooperating entirely. Whenever she turned too quickly, ducked or raised her head in a snappy movement, her stomach promised to spill its contents. Hating the sensation, taste, and worst of all the smell of vomit, she took it easy instead.

Perhaps she should get a handmaid to help her in the future.

Finally dressed and royal looking enough, she strode out of the chambers and let some of the castle guards escort her to Wendy.

Gajeel was still sleeping in the crown prince's chambers. While she loved having the duo at her side, Lily was but a baby and needed a lot of care, sleep, and room to scream and play. At this point Gajeel was more of a parent to him than Laxus or even Levy. The two were inseparable. It didn't surprise her that it turned out this way, but it saddened her. She wanted to be there for her child, but she had a country to run. Being royalty was nothing like in the fairy tales.

Reaching the young healer's chambers, Levy knocked and left her guards standing outside.

  


Laxus managed to read at least most of the paperwork before he headed for the meeting of The Table. Sitting down and motioning the rest of the round to match him, he explained that Levy would be late and began the meeting without her.

Since the birth of Lily, Levy had unsurprisingly been somewhat distracted, and he had once more regained a bit of control over his kingdom. By now he was at least a quick enough reader and well-versed in the law and bureaucratic processes, allowing him to make his own calls rather than solely listening to advisers and crossing his fingers. He got a sense that Levy didn't like giving him back this much control, but she had other matters to attend these days. He too wanted more time with his son, though.

“Moving on”, he moved the discussion onward. “I wish to redistribute the responsibilities of The Table somewhat.”

“What do you have in mind?”, Freed wondered.

“I propose The High Constable makes autonomous decisions about stationing strategies and hands the same kind of responsibility down the ranks. He would work more closely with the court when there are special cases or needs in the justice system. I only want to hear about truly monumental issues or cases for which my personal verdict is required. I also want the Archmage and Elder Scholar to handle The Scholarship of The Crown with clear unity and autonomy. If you have questions, ask Levy in her position as a renowned scholar, not a king or queen with little sense for your work. The same goes for the church. It is not my business.”

“Your Highness? Are you sure this is a good idea? You are essentially giving away more than half of your power as sovereign”, Fabrizio asked astounded.

“Exactly. Why should one man decide over the work of experts in their field all around the country? What do I know about matters of the church, the army, or the court? What do I know of scholarly work or magic? Not much. I don't tell smiths how to forge their swords. I don't tell inns how to price their rooms. Why should I tell you how to staff or organise?”

There was an eerie atmosphere in the meeting hall. Laxus sighed, not sure if he had crossed one of those invisible lines with his idea.

Darton huffed a laugh. “I believe what Your Highness is proposing is dēmomratia, the rule of the people. It was tried in ancient times, before the nations that employed it fell apart and descended into madness.” His voice had a scathing snarl to it as he spoke his warning.

The silence that followed his remark was broken when Levy joined their round. The advisers and councillors relaxed back. Surely The Queen would not have any of this foolishness.

Levy strode around the table with a slight frown. Something had happened in her absence, that much was clear. Leaving Wendy standing by her side, she inquired and the passed points of the agenda were detailed to her.

Levy stared up at the ceiling for several drawn out minutes when she heard about Laxus's proposal.

“No”, she finally said. “No way. We are not decentralising power from The Crown.”

“My Lady, if we can give away some control, we could…”, Laxus began, but she interrupted at once.

“We could watch the wheels fall off the wagon and the country burn. No. Absolutely not. What we could do is decentralise it within The Crown itself. We could split the positions currently held by the men and women at this table into more specialised ones to ensure that our council is capable of exerting more detail control themselves, but we are not giving autonomy nor handing it down the line. Just imagine the outcome. It would be chaos. No, the merit of your thought is in splitting tasks, not power. The Chair for example has been overwhelmed for a while now.”

Levy gave the swordsman a long look. He knew that he had missed several important details and deadlines. The ledgers were a mess and he was loosing his grip on the situation. It hurt his ego to say he couldn't do the job in its entirety to date.

“I am sorry I disappoint.”

“Not at all”, Levy smiled. “As I said, it is simply too much work. We will ease that for you. I propose we split the position into three. One for paperwork. One for The Table to turn to. One to act in our stead when necessary. A Right Hand, a Scribe of The Crown, and The Chair. Perhaps some further councillors ought to be employed as well. Not having to pick up the slack will allow me and The King to spend some time with our children as well.”

Laxus was glad that Levy didn't outright deny the fact that they needed help. He wasn't as convinced of the great wisdom of having one sovereign family at the tip of everything, acting like experts on all matters, but he was willing to accept this compromise. Just as long as he finally got to spend some time with his son.

“Children? As in plural?”, Darton picked her hint up and Levy nodded. Motioning toward Wendy, she gave the young healer the floor.

“I am glad to announce our queen is pregnant with her second child”, Wendy stated and the room burst into applaud.

“Thank you”, Levy smiled. She eyed the young healer for a moment and added, “And congratulate Wendy as well. She will begin to act as Elder Healer and take responsibility for educating healers throughout the country, ensuring that every mayor city has access to basic vulnerary potions and magic.”

Wendy's eyes went wide at the promotion. “Me?”

Levy nodded firmly. “Yes. Lady Marvell, Elder Healer of The Crown, I have full confidence in your abilities. You are one of the youngest and most accomplished healers of your time and I am sure you can learn organisational skills within a few weeks as well. I expect your report on the current situation and a draft to fix key issues before the summer.”

Wendy bowed low, a little too low. “I am honoured. I will do my best, My Queen.”

“Get a chair”, Levy ordered and the new council member was seated at Darton's side.

The Archmage raised a finger to request focus and waited for Levy to nod at him. “If I may suggest, I would be honoured to act godfather to this second royal child.”

“Any particular reason?”, Levy wondered. She hadn't planned on splitting her children onto different caretakers but rather let Gajeel act father to all of them.

“It is a girl this time, is it not?”, Darton inquired and Wendy nodded.

“Yes. Her aura is different this time around and last time it was a boy, so I would assume it is.”

“A clever assessment, Elder Healer”, Darton complimented. “As daughter to the The King, his first daughter for that matter, she is bound to another kingdom before she even sees the day of light. I believe that she will be safer if she is connected to me by name. Not even The King of Seven has been arrogant enough to defy me yet, and if he does, I bet the earth would begin to tremble under his feet.”

Glad to have the additional protection, Levy nodded in agreement. “Thank you Darton, truly.”

“It is my pleasure to be of service”, Darton said dutifully before adding, “And especially so if it displeases King Holt.”

The stenographer elected not to bring the sentence to paper.

Ending the meeting with a few more details on what new positions ought to be considered and what type of councillors they had to look for, Levy shot her husband a displeased glare. She really couldn't leave the man alone for half an hour without returning to some sort of trouble, now could she?

Handing her paperwork to a servant to be placed on her desk, she went to check on her child instead. Finding Gajeel in the Crown Prince's chambers, she smiled brightly.

“Good morning you two.”

“Hi”, Gajeel returned curtly and she frowned a little.

“Didn't sleep well?”

“No. I didn't. I have a child that I take care of, in case you missed that”, Gajeel growled back and she tensed.

“What's that supposed to mean? I thought you wanted to be the caretaker.”

“I do. For one child. One, Levy”, Gajeel huffed.

“So you've heard already”, Levy sighed. She wanted to tell him her own self.

“Yea. I heard it from the maid. Word travels fast in this castle, doesn't it?”, Gajeel grumbled. He hated hearing it from another servant, as though he had no connection to the woman whose child he was raising, had no right to know these sort of things before the rest of the castle did.

“I thought you would be happy for me”, Levy said, a sting of sadness in her voice.

“Happy?”, Gajeel huffed. “You…” He paused. Picking Lily up off the thick rug together with the wooden toy horse and putting him in his crib, Gajeel closed the doors to the bedroom before turning to The Queen.

“I thought you only married him for the gig. Why would you...?” He stopped himself, unable to finish the sentence without raising his voice. Staring out the window instead, he clenched his hands into fists.

Levy too drew her shoulders up in anger. He wouldn't dare shame her for this. He wouldn't.

“Why would I what? Gajeel what? Sleep with him? What did you think was going to happen? That I would only ever have one child? Phanter Lily is our sole heir. That is far from stable. This entire thing was arranged in order to create a strong stem, to build a bright future for Fiore. Toma E. Fiore also only had one child and we all know how that ended.”

“Have you been sleeping with him all this time? Even after you got pregnant with Lily?”, the knight asked and she could feel her heart constricting in her chest. He would really be this petty? After everything they had been through together?

“Gajeel”, she whispered in disbelief.

“Answer the question”, he snarled.

“Yes. Of course I did. We are husband and wife.”

The dark red eyes met her and she could see nothing but disdain in them. “Yea, and you quite enjoy sharing chambers with him, don't you?”

“Gajeel!”, Levy roared. How dare he?!

“What?!”

A guard opened the door to check on them as they raised their voices and Levy knew she had to uphold the façade. She was expected to be a fierce and calculating queen that didn't let any man, no matter how strong, walk on her. If she lost that image, she lost her power.

“You are out of line, Knight!”, she barked. “Cross me again and you will regret it. No one insults The Crown, and sure as hell not a glorified babysitter.”

Gajeel took a deep breath to speak and she held a hand up in warning. If he spoke now, he would feel the full force of her spellcasting.

Gritting his teeth together, the knight turned on his heel and stormed out of the chambers.

Levy exhaled hard. It hurt to do this, but if she showed herself weak against someone that insulted her directly, accused her of infidelity, raised his voice against her, she wouldn't be able to walk with her head held high again. Even if that someone was Gajeel.

Hearing Lily cry in the other room, she sighed.

“Call a maid”, she ordered before opening the thick doors and picking her child up to calm his worry and hush his cry.

Once Lily had calmed down and a maid taken the little prince into her arms with care, Levy went to look for her champion. She hated that they fought. She needed to talk to him, in private. She would have to take him somewhere far enough from any guard that he could tell her his thoughts without hesitation, that he could scream at her if he needed to. Just as long as they could talk this through and get past it.

She needed him. She needed him so much, she wouldn't know what to do with herself if he despised her, or worse if he left.

Doing her best to avoid conjuring any nightmare scenarios, she asked her way through the castle in her effort to find the man. Finally Dobengal engaged her, giving a small bow, and reporting “I heard you are looking for Knight Redfox. He left the city a few minutes ago.”

“What gate?”, Levy demanded.

“North.”

When she walked past him, he frowned. “Your Highness isn't going to ride out for him on her own, is she?”

“She is”, Levy stated firmly. It was the perfect place. Past the walls they would truly have their privacy.

“I will make sure to ready a troop”, Dobengal said, but she shook her head.

“No. I am going alone.”

“Your Highness, with all due respect…”

“Anyone that follows me will feel the very blood in their veins boil”, Levy barked, placing her crown in the hands of a nearby servant and heading out to the stables.

Sure that Dobengal would report this to Laxus right away, Levy hurried. She wanted to be out of the city before word got to the northern gate. Borrowing a simple tunic and riding trousers from the armoury, she saddled Nyx and galloped through the capital.

Tracking Gajeel past the gates was made easier by the fact that few voluntarily left the road. Finding hoof imprints in the snow, she too steered her mount into the woods. Half an hour into the thicket, she found a small steady stream that had only frozen around the edges. Watering her horse, she looked around.

Surely Gajeel wouldn't truly have aimed to leave without as much as a goodbye? Not even after their fight could she imagine that. He had to be nearby still. Trotting along the trickling streamlet, she finally spotted a familiar creature. Hemera was licking a stone on the opposite side of the calm brook. Carefully steering Nyx across the water, Levy let the two horses hold another company and walked the last few meters to where Gajeel sat.

Resting on a stump, he was picking stones off the ground and after turning them over in his hands a few times tossed them as far up the stream as he could manage.

“Sulking doesn't befit a champion”, Levy teased softly and he turned his head in surprise.

“What are you doing here on your own?”, he scolded.

Levy was relieved he still worried about her at least. Taking a seat beside him, she shrugged, “You know I don't really need guards. I'm a mage.”

“With a target on her forehead”, Gajeel grumbled irritably. “And you're expecting. And it's cold. You really should be more careful!”

“Then don't run away from me”, Levy countered. “You didn't really think I would just let you leave, did you? You're sworn to me.”

She lowered her head a little, staring down at her hands. That wasn't why she wanted him to stay, though. And ordering him around wasn't why she had come after him either. “And I love you”, she added.

Gajeel swallowed hard. Avoiding her gaze, he cleared his throat. “Look, Levy, I am sorry for what I said. I had no right.”

“It's okay.”

“No it's not okay. Who am I to blame you for being with your own fucking husband? I was out of line and I hurt you. I could see it in your eyes and I hated myself for it, but I still said it. I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry.”

He turned back to the love of his life, her hazel eyes wide in surprise and a relieved smile on her face. He never meant to hurt her. Not her. Never. He had sworn it to himself long ago and several times since. Never her. Never again.

“And you're right. I am sworn to you. I vowed to you thrice, and I will do it again.” He fell to his knees in the snow and bowed his head to his liege, his lover, and his queen. “I am yours, until death takes me. I will protect you and be by your side, be it as partner, knight, or loyal. I will be what you need me to be. That is more than enough, for I love you with all my heart.”

Levy swallowed back most of the tremble she knew her voice would have. “I need you to be a godfather to my son and a caretaker to all my children. Can you be that?”

Gajeel nodded. “I most definitively can.”

Taking a hold of Levy's hand, he eased the thick glove off it and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I love you Levy.”

“I love you too.”

Taking a hold of Gajeel's hand, she rose to her feet, urging him up with her, and pulled him against herself. Getting up on her toes, she kissed him, tangling her hands in his wild raven hair. After spending an hour in the snow, his skin was cold to the touch, but Levy didn't care. She ran her hands down his neck, sharing her own heat as she parted her lips and invited his tongue.

Overwhelmed by the sudden advance, Gajeel hummed into Levy's mouth, let her hands pull and guide him until his own were at her hips, under her tunic. Pressing the small frame back against the nearest tree, he was pleased to see her wrap her arms around him and lift herself to straddle his waist, hooking her legs around them to stay in place. Her soft hands reached for his belt and he finally halted. She wasn't his to lie with, not any more. She was married.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”, he questioned.

“Don't worry. I'm already pregnant”, Levy shrugged it off.

Tugging the tunic up a little, she allowed for the cold air to grace his skin and he growled in discontent. Giving a little laugh, Levy moved her hands to her sides and whispered, “summer heat”.

The snow around their feet melted away and Gajeel could feel the air warming up to imitate a summer's day. Throwing his tunic over his head, he dove for the mage's skin in turn.

Magic was good for something besides destruction after all.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun sex ed fact: While it is widely believed that you cannot get pregnant again while you already are, it is actually possible. It is rare, but it does happen.


	32. The Escape

While Bickslow had no intensive to stop Rose this time, he still instinctively followed her when she distanced herself from The Hargeon Rest in the late evening. Finding the red haired woman entering the communal bath, he frowned. The place wasn't heated other than during operation.

Now genuinely curious, he left his metal boots by the door and tip-toed through the dim corridors, enduring the icy cold stone under his feet in favour of the silence. Finding Rose by the shimmer of a lit candle, he ducked into the shadows and watched.

Rose filled one of the small bathtubs and threw wood into the hearth beneath it. Lighting the fire and fanning it to life, she sat down to wait. Whenever the fire calmed down, she made sure to bring it back to life, keeping a steady flame.

Bickslow gathered that she wasn't merely looking for a lonely bath. Surely she knew better than to heat the tub so aggressively, knew that merely rekindling the charcoal with a fresh layer every few hours was enough.

Rose waited until the water was steaming, a few bubbles moving it around the edges, before she got back up. When she undressed, Bickslow took a sharp breath. It couldn't be.

They had ended up finding warmth in another’s arms more than one night before they realised Nathalia was in town, so he probably shouldn't be so surprised. Whatever the case, he couldn't let her harm herself like this. He moved his foot a little to make a sound.

Rose looked behind herself and spotted the rogue.

“Peeking? That's not awfully classy.”

“You're not seriously planning to scald yourself, are you?”

“That could be a side effect”, she shrugged.

“Don't”, Bickslow said firmly and she placed her hands on her hips.

“I am not having a child after all that has happened. It wouldn't be a happy life.”

Bickslow took a steady breath to swallow back what he really meant to say. He didn't say that she shouldn't do this, that she was going to kill not just her own but his child. He didn't say that he would take the child, that he wanted it, that he wished she wouldn't do this. He didn't say all the things he wished she would do with her body, because it was just that. Hers, not his. It was not his choice to make.

“I get that, but there are other ways”, he said instead.

Rose frowned back at him.

Taking a step out of the shadows, Bickslow thought of an appropriate way to phrase his next sentence.

“I learned a thing or two about herbs in my youth. The traders that stayed for the wait should have all we need. Let me help you, please.”

Rose tugged her tunic back on at that. If he truly knew how to fix this without her going through the pain of this bath, she was all for it.

“Fine, but if your plan fails, I do it my way. I lived in a whore house. I know how to get rid of an unwanted child.”

He really didn't want to think about what other methods she had seen performed in her youth, but feared that he already knew. Among the few he had heard, one was more gruesome than the next, and a lot of them less effective than desired. Either way, his child in her was an unwanted one and that was all he needed to know. He was going to get rid of it for her.

“Wait here”, he prompted before slipping back downstairs and finding his by now uncomfortably cold boots. After gathering the ingredients, he returned and spread his work out on the clean stone floor.

Fetching some of the now boiling water in a bowl, he ripped a measured amount of pennyroyal leaves into it. Adding dried Mugwort and other plants Rose couldn't identify, he stirred the infusion until it was a dark and murky green. Finally straining it into another vessel, he reached for a dark root and pulled a dagger from his waist, cutting off slices and pressing juice out of them.

“You're a Seith. Aren't you?”

Bickslow's hands stopped what they were doing and he stared back at Rose through his visor.

“I thought so”, Rose continued. “Not quite a mage. A masterful rogue that can sneak through the shadows as though he is part of them. A man that knows about herbal medicine without having been brought up under the wing of a witch or a scholar. It is a rather rare combination of skills, isn't it?”

“Don't ever speak it aloud”, Bickslow warned.

“That is what you're hiding under that visor, isn't it? The mark? You don't even take it off when you fuck. It's a little off-putting to be honest. Couldn't you at least have gone for a cloth mask?”, Rose teased.

“No. I couldn't.”

“Why?”

Bickslow remained silent, going back to the task of juicing the black root.

“They think you're dead”, Rose stated rather than asked.

Bickslow nodded a little to confirm it.

“Have you ever killed on their behalf?”, Rose asked and he slimmed his lips, pressing them together firmly.

Tired of his silence, Rose clicked her tongue. “Fuck you.”

“Fair enough. Care to elaborate?”, Bickslow asked as he scooped some of the dark juice up on his dagger and let it drip into the brew.

“You make it your business to know everything about everyone, but won't even answer a simple question yourself”, Rose complained.

“I do not answer what others do not want to know. If I told you, you would wish could unhear it.”

“Try me”, Rose challenged but he shook his head.

“Coward”, she growled.

“Think what you will of me, but I am serious. Never speak of my true nature even to an empty room.”

“Because otherwise you will find me even in the vastest corners of Earth Land and kill me slowly?”, Rose asked in a bored tone of voice.

“No. I couldn't do that. I love you too much.”

Rose's head snapped up at that.

“The Seith”, Bickslow continued. “They would find us both in the vastest corners of Earth Land and kill us, and anyone that happens to get in their way would greet us by Ophiuchus's side.”

Rose let her head sink a little. Even though she couldn't imagine him having any secret that would make her wish she could unknow things, after everything she had seen in her own life, she figured she was better off not being proven wrong. He had given her a small token of trust at least.

'Love'. Not that she didn't know about his feelings before now, but he actually spoke it aloud. He was as great a fool as her to fall for the wrong person at the wrong time.

She watched as he scooped more of the ungodly looking juice up and dripped it into the murky water, counting the drops. Putting his dagger aside, he handed the hot bowl of potion to her and she accepted it. The water looked like the bottom of a dirty well, but smelled of a soothing herbal tea.

“It even tastes good”, Bickslow joked and the redhead shook her head.

“It will hurt, though”, he warned. “No worse than scalding yourself I'd guess, but still. And if you want to walk back in those clothes, you ought to remove them.”

She nodded in understanding and looked down at the little bowl again. She didn't need to see his eyes to know there was a shimmer in them, a hope that she might not do it after all. Placing the bowl down, she reached into her pocket and produced the small stone he had given her as light source when he freed her from the dungeons of Crocus. Having it in her possession while she prepared to rid herself of his child felt weird.

“You can have this back”, she stated, symbolically severing their last bond. He accepted it and watched her tug her clothes off and chug the potion. Playing with the little green crystal, he counted the seconds before she rolled together on the ground in pain.

Placing the crystal down beside the lit candle to let the green and yellow light mix as it danced around them, he reached out for the arbalist. Forcing her onto her knees, he held her tight, stroking over her back as she dug her nails into his arms.

The smell of blood swept through the room and Rose chuckled between her grunts of pain.

“Natalia was right. You really are a cuddler.”

“Tsk. Shut it and focus on yourself.”

  


Bickslow played with his green light crystal as he sat by the hearth in the inn. It really only shone when the room around it was darker than it's own level of illumination. It didn't seem to need any light to gain this quality, though. It wasn't like sulfide. It just glowed, no matter if it had been lying on a windowsill or been shrouded in darkness. It was very peculiar, especially since he couldn't detect any magic in it.

“The snow is melting. We can leave soon”, Cobra announced happily and the troops cheered. The root soup and salted meats were starting to bore them and the beer supply was diminishing.

Getting out of his chair, Bickslow walked up the stairs and knocked on Rose's room before entering. Finding her resting within, he closed the door around them.

“Pack your bag and come down to the harbour tonight. Be discrete.”

“Why?”, she questioned.

“I organised a ride for you with the first boat to Mid Bugbane. I know you hate Lord Dreapip, but he accepted to have you in the city until a boat to Minstrel leaves if you swear not to try for his life while there.”

Rose sat up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You have a way to flee Fiore, and your sentence. Go, and stay away”, he stated, but she shook her head.

“No. I am going back to Crocus. I'm at peace with my fate.”

“But Levy isn't”, Bickslow argued. Rose's frown deepened further, as much as it could with her scar getting in the way.

Taking a seat on the sheets beside her, Bickslow explained, “Levy ordered me to make sure you are gone, that you cannot be found. She confronted me as I was on my way out of the city to find you. She even threatened me to make her point. I'm not telling you this because I fear the consequences should I fail her, but because I recognise how much you mean to her. She threaten me despite knowing I'm a Seith.”

“She knows?”

Rose was shocked. Levy would accept not only a Phantom, but a Seith in the castle? She really was something else. Rose wasn't entirely sure if that was such a good thing.

“She was told about the mark. You're the only one that figured it out entirely without being aware of it, if that makes you feel clever”, Bickslow smirked.

Dropping the smile off his face again, he finished, “So, to summarise, I will drag you to the other side of Earth Land and chain you down there my own self if I have to.”

Rose sighed at the threat. If this was truly Levy's wish, if she would rather never see Rose again than have her in the dungeons, then so be it.

“I understand.”

Getting up, she began packing and Bickslow left to make preparations of his own.

Rose was halfway through folding her sparse collection of clothes when there was another knock at the door, the person behind it not waiting for an answer to open it. Nathalia frowned at the bag on the bed and slowly let the door fall shut behind herself.

“Where are you going?”

“Away”, Rose stated. “You saw nothing.”

“Take me with you”, Nathalia requested and Rose stopped in her tracks.

“What? No. No way.”

Flopping down on the bed beside the half packed bag, Nathalia insisted, “Then I will tell.”

Rose gave her a stern look.

“Please. I want to see the world. The sailors will tell me of it when they come in to harbour, but they won't take me with them on my own. They say I will end up dead before I know it.”

“They're right.”

“But not if I am by your side.” Nathalia came closer and entwined her hand with Rose's. “Not if I have a strong knight to protect me. Let's make a deal, My Love. You protect me and I keep you warm on the road.”

Sighing, Rose shook her head. “Nathalia, I don't…”

“You love me, don't you?”, Nathalia interrupted her dismissal.

“I don't know if I really do”, Rose answered truthfully. “I only know that I love your body so far.”

“Then love my body, and protect my body. And if you need me to shut my mouth in order to be able to do so, shut it I will. Just please let me see the world with my own two eyes. That is all I ever wanted. I beg you Rose. When you were locked away in you owner's cellars, did you not dream of travelling? Did you not dream of the vast fields of Minstrel and the beaches of Midi? Please. If it so kills me, let me see it too.”

Dropping a folded tunic onto the sheets, Rose sat down on the bed as well and stroked a tear from Nathalia's cheek.

“Okay. If you are that determined, you can come with me. I promise to do my best to protect you for a year. After that, you have to either go back or find your own way. But there is one condition. You don't need to shut up and you don't need to warm me. You do however need to learn how to fight. I will teach you along the way, but I will hurt you doing it”, she warned.

“Sounds lovely”, Nathalia nodded.

“Then pack, and be quick about it.”

Happy the other woman understood her feelings, Nathalia hurried into her own room and gathered her belongings.

The two women left the inn at separate times, slipping out the back door that the inn owner Ralph Whitetap left unlocked for them tonight. Joining up a few hundred meters down the road, they pulled their travel robes around themselves to hide and met Bickslow at the harbour.

Seeing that Rose was not on her own, Bickslow glanced under the hood of the second character before hissing irritably, “Nat? What are you doing here?!”

“I'm going”, Nathalia stated and he opened his mouth to protest when Rose cut in.

“Don't bother. I tried. She has made up her mind.”

Bickslow sighed in defeat.

“Fine. Speak to the Lord when you get to Mid Bugbane. He will likely pay your trip as well. Just take care and know you are always welcome back at The Northern Gate Inn if you come to your senses.”

Nathalia giggled a little at his concern. Holding a familiar bag out, she offered, “For you. A farewell gift.”

It was the same he had received from The Reaper back when he left Crocus, the one he had left with her for safekeeping when they met in Zinla. Taking the burlap bag, Bickslow felt the weight appropriate of a skull and frowned at her. He had thought she wanted to keep it as a story trinket, like the dagger of an old Mid Bugbane city guard that died during the raids, or the notebook of the former Elder Scholar that she couldn't read. It was her little obsession.

“Open it after we're gone”, Nathalia said playfully before walking out to the ship and boarding it.

Rose sighed tiredly. “You two have the most grotesque kind of inside jokes, you know that, right?”

She too held a little pouch out, unfamiliar and small in contrast.

“Give Levy this from me. And go to Dan's grave for me, okay? Pray in my stead”, she requested.

“I will.”

Rose turned her head away and he frowned.

“Are you crying?”

“No stupid! I just…” Rose stopped to take a quick, deep breath.

She punched the Seith hard enough to hurt and turned on her heel.

“Fuck you”, she cursed and stomped toward the ship.

Bickslow rubbed over his arm with a smile. The two women would be fine. Between Nathalia's charm and devious mind and Rose's aggression and fighting skill, they could pave a way for themselves in any country.

After watching the boat leave harbour, Bickslow opened his present to have a peek. Nathalia had not only cleaned the skull, fastening jaw and teeth in an orderly fashion, but had carved patterns into the cranium, making it a perfect curio cabinet candidate.

Shaking his head a little, he closed the bag and shouldered it.

“Thanks Nat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun sex ed fact: Herbal abortions were once common practice all around the world, but their effectiveness and safety is often very doubtful. Scalding hot baths are even less helpful. They are more likely to cause growth issues on the unborn than they are to cause miscarriage. It was however common practice in the western world before abortions were legalised. Other methods, like scraping, have been used for many years, but were far more painful than they are today and often cause complications when performed at home (like e.g. a coat hanger abortion).


	33. Always

When Bickslow returned to The Hargeon Rest, he wasn't surprised to find Cobra and Cubellios standing outside with anger written on their faces. Seeing little point in lying, he admitted to having helped Rose flee. So began his weeks of imprisonment.

After a loud scolding by the Guard Master of Akane, Bickslow was officially captured. Running and hiding was an easy feat in a city founded in banditry, but he had no interest in putting the nooks and crannies to the test. Accepting the iron shackles, Bickslow climbed into an armoured cart for transport to Crocus.

He could tell Cubellios was as disappointed in his betrayal as Cobra was furious with Rose, but that was the price they had to pay for loyalty to other parties. The true orders of the king and queen could not become public knowledge.

Despite her evident displeasure and all that had happened in the last few months, Cubellios still argued he needn't wear shackles. She claimed that the armoured cart was more than enough to contain him. It was an endearing gesture, for they both knew her words weren't true. The fact that both his wrists and ankles were chained to the cart itself was the only thin complicating an escape.

Not that he had any intentions of leaving.

Bidding the Cobra and Cubellios farewell as formally as he could from within the little cage, Bickslow let himself be transported along the rove, past markets, villages, and castles. The difference between the new and the old paving made itself know quite harshly, his ride suddenly becoming far more bumpy after a day on the road.

Another annoyance was that the guards leading the caravan weren't as fond of him. Whenever it rained, he found his cart uncovered and himself wet. The cart wasn't brought into any warm stable, and he didn't get any second blanket to sit on instead of the firm wood either. He did however have _a_ blanket, and that was more than he had expected.

The food wasn't the worst, either. The luxury of beans in his soup was most likely due to a practical consideration rather than a show of compassion from his captors. Delivering the former shadow master half starved might not please their sovereign. The bowls handed to the men in the other two iron carts looked more lean.

Finally being carted through the gates of Crocus, Bickslow thirsted to stretch without hitting a wall. Glancing through the metal bars, he observed the bustling of the city. Mercurius was as beautiful as ever, the golden décor glistening in the evening sun. It really was a stupendous sight, an extraordinary symbol of power. A sense of pride grew in his chest.

The caravan dissolved along the road. Most guards joined their brethren at the barracks. Some carts headed for the market, other to the stables and inns. The other armoured carts were steered toward the prison, but Bickslow received special treatment. He was brought right to Mercurius.

Being unloaded by rough tugging hands, he was shoved into the throne room and forced to his knees on the cold stone floor. Really wishing he had his boots now, he curled his toes to ease the discomfort. Not much longer now.

Laxus strode into the large hall and Bickslow could see a tiny smile tug at the king's lips. Laxus managed to repress it enough that no one else caught on. It was merely his usually stoic face that allowed Bickslow to note the variation.

Before he had even taken a seat on his throne, Laxus motioned toward the traitor that sat in chains on the floor between several heavily armed guards and ordered, “Free him.”

“Your Highness, this man allowed the traitor Rose…”, a caravan guard began, but he wasn't allowed to finish his sentence.

“I gave an order”, Laxus stated firmly and the man bowed his head, digging for his keys in his pockets and freeing the prisoner from his shackles.

Bickslow got up and rubbed his wrists before stretching until his back gave a series of satisfying cracks. Letting out a loud groan, he shook his legs out before shooting the guards on either side of him an evil eye, causing them to back away a step each.

“Bathe him and give him fresh clothes. Let him eat and rest. When he is ready, he can come and report to me”, Laxus ordered.

Bickslow could see how the servants hesitated, exchanging worried glances. One finally swallowed hard and stepped forward to the great relief of his peers. Coming to Bickslow's side, he bowed his head and led the dangerous traitor toward the baths.

Once Bickslow was clean, dressed in fresh clothes, and had a bite to eat, he excused the brave and eventually calm servant. Walking over to the bed of the little chambers he had been given for the night, he neatly tucked the sheets around the rolled up blanket to create an illusion of a sleeping man. Satisfied with his work, he opened the window and hopped out onto the windowsill.

“Follow if you must, Dobengal, but try to stop me and I will kill you without hesitation. There is no one else that I would trust to be a good Shadow Master, so please don't. The royal family and the kingdom need you.”

“Will you be back?”, the Shadow Master asked from the back of the room.

Turning, Bickslow finally spotted him and nodded.

“You've gotten better”, he complimented.

“You still noticed me.”

“Only because I can tell you would be here. I didn't see nor hear you”, Bickslow offered and he could tell that a mild smile formed under the black face guard.

“I'm going now”, Bickslow added and Dobengal sighed. Nodded as well, he agreed to the terms and Bickslow disappeared into the night.

Climbing down the wall, he landed softly in the gardens below. Scaling the castle walls and heading into the city itself, he sought out the last paragraph to finish his report. He pulled his robes around himself tightly to hide his identity as he walked through the capital. The sun was setting now, offering him cover among the shadows, but these were threatened by diligent lamplighters that walked their routes as every evening.

Reaching a house at the eastern end of the capital, Bickslow knocked and politely took a step back, waiting patiently. When the door opened, he came closer and revealed himself.

“Morley! Long time no see.”

“Uh, Shadow Master?”

“Not any more”, Bickslow smiled. “May I?”, he asked, motioning inside.

“Yes, I suppose”, the Morley nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

“I…” The man closed the door and licked his lips. “I am sorry if I offend by asking, but weren't you imprisoned?”

“Yes. But I still had some unfinished business to take care of”, Bickslow waved it off.

He turned to the young shadow guard with a mischievous smile. “See, I was gone for a while. You might not have noticed. You never were particularly observant. But I was. I was looking for the men that murdered our former queen, that attempted to take our current queen's life as well.”

Slowly circling the room toward his weapons, Morley made a face of practised surprise. “Oh? Did you find anything?”

Nodding again, Bickslow crossed his arms over his chest. “I did. I found out who was behind it. Siegrain, a former councillor. You wouldn't know him. He pulled the strings from Seven where he is hiding out. He was the one that provided payment for the assassins.”

The guard relaxed a little at that. “What a nasty business”, he commented.

“Hm. I also found out how the assassins managed to get into the castle. Apparently they had help from the inside.”

Bickslow looked back at the profusely sweating shadow guard. “Which is why I am here. Any suggestions as to who might have helped them?”

Morley shook his head a little too enthusiastically. “Sorry, no. I don't know.”

Taking a step toward him, Bickslow urged, “Are you sure? Think really hard. I need your help here Morley. Who could it have been?”

Seeing his chance, the guard made a show of thinking long and hard about the issue, tapping his foot a few times and drawing a sharp breath before he offered, “It must have been Serena. He is the one that knows his way around the dungeons best. If someone wanted to sneak in taking alternative paths though the underground, Serena would be their man.”

“Serena hm? That is your guess? You remember what I said about betraying the shadow guard right? You remember what will happen to him who dares become a traitor, right? With that in mind, are you sure it was him?”, Bickslow asked sternly.

“Who else could it possibly be, right?”, Morley shrugged. As long as it wasn't his head, and as long as he didn't have to physically see it roll, he didn't mind another death.

“How did you know they went through the dungeons?”, Bickslow questioned and he made a face.

“You said so.”

Shaking his head, Bickslow sighed. “No I didn't. I just said they had help. You really should work on your lies more thoroughly when they are the only think keeping you alive.”

“I'm not lying! I guessed, like you said. It makes sense, right?”, Morley tried.

“Not really. The dungeons are dangerous. It's ludicrous”, Bickslow said.

Realising his situation, Morley edged back to his sword only to find it no longer lying where he expected it to.

“It was you. I can tell”, Bickslow stated and he shook his head.

“No. I couldn’t. I can't navigate down there if I leave the path.”

“Unless you're a mage”, Bickslow countered.

“Me?!”, Morley huffed.

“You”, Bickslow stated dryly.

Hurrying over to the lit hearth instead, Morley held a hand up toward the former shadow master. “Yea! So don't come near me! I'll burn you to crisps!”

Bickslow burst into laughter at that. He had expected the man to deny it to his last breath, not to admit his crime and engage in a futile attempt to intimidate a Seith. Then again, he didn't know, now did he?

“I would just love to see that! Gyhaha!”

Morley flexed his fingers and the fire gave a threatening crackle, flaring up brighter.

“Well? Come on then, Guard. Burn me”, Bickslow mocked. “You can't, can you? You may be able to manipulate a bit of fire, but you can't produce it. Were you that strong, you would have joined the scholarship rather than patrolling the dungeons day in and day out. You always hated being stationed with the jailers, because you know what's down there. You know what the new wall is about, the blocked corridor.”

Now the man fell to his knees instead. “Please! I beg you! They said they would kill me! They were Seith! I couldn't help it!”

Disgusted with the coward now begging for his life, Bickslow could feel his soul retreat into the darkness, hide behind his old and trusty assassin façade once more.

“I know, I know. Seith are horrible people, aren't we?”, he grinned.

Morley's eyes went wide and Bickslow produced not only the guard's sword but also one of his old daggers with clan mark etched onto it. Pointing the tip toward the admitted traitor, Bickslow offered playfully, “I will be so merciful as to give you a choice. Either take your own life and retain some form of honour, or die by the blade that you so cowardly helped betray your king.”

Fearing that fate more than death itself, Morley took his own sword and turned it over with trembling hands. Pointing it against his own stomach, he tensed his muscles, trying to build up the courage to end it.

Bickslow saw that he couldn't bring himself to do it. His will to live got in the way. Not about to wait all day, Bickslow placed a hand over the man's and led the blade up to his throat instead.

He watched how Morley closed his eyes, preparing for the end. While the guard couldn't bring his body to cooperate and finish it, he did accept this end rather than opting for a fight that he knew he would loose. Fear was running rampage in his very being and tears welled from the corners of his eyes.

Bickslow held his breath.

This was what he had sworn all those years ago to use his training for. He would take out the trash for his liege, for the man that had saved him from himself and from the clan, but standing here over the trembling traitor, he recognised the man's humanity. Something had changed since back then. Bickslow couldn't stash away his soul the same way any more. Before him he saw not trash, but a human.

Morley was a human being with a profound and healthy fear of death. He never choose to be a traitor before his life depended on the answer. No matter what the circumstances, it was his fault that Mirajane was dead and that Levy almost lost her life as well. There was no mercy for him to be had. Either he died here in his home or in a weeks time at the hand of an executioner.

This, Bickslow decided, was still the kinder way to let him go.

With that, he led the blade though skin and muscles in one smooth, quick glide and stepped aside to avoid the blood spraying onto the floor.

Returning to the castle, Bickslow wasn't surprised that Laxus and Levy had already been informed of his unauthorized departure. Walking into the throne room and once more kneeling down on the ground, he waited for the royal family to arrive.

With Laxus and Levy were Freed and Evergreen, and while Bickslow was glad to see them, it also hurt that he knew the visit would soon come to and end. Seeing Gajeel carry the tiny crown prince Phanter Lily Dreyar in his arms, Bickslow smiled despite it all. It had been worth it. All of it. Even if he was sentenced to death today, he knew he had done the right thing.

Forcing his gaze from the little boy, he noticed Levy was carrying a second soul within her again and his smile threatened to become permanent. It wasn't a good look for a traitor, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

Laxus allowed him to stand, but he elected not to, instead giving his report from his position on the floor. Once he had finished, including the fact that he had killed the shadow guard Morley without a trial, he went silent and waited.

Levy leaned close to her husband, exchanging a few whispers with him before relaxing back. Laxus rubbed a hand over his face. He looked older than he had just a moment ago. Bickslow swallowed hard. What would it be? Hanging? A guillotine? Would it be public or could he be spared that at least?

“Since you have crossed me, you can no longer be a member of the royal guard nor of the shadow guard. You will leave behind all your former occupations and your place in the castle. You will be allowed to join the City Guard of Crocus and be stationed on the outer walls for the rest of your life, or you may leave Crocus entirely. Should you ever step foot in the dungeons again, you will have to explain your treason to the Court of Crocus.”

Bowing even lower, Bickslow exhaled hard. He was so relieved he wanted to cry. He only then noticed that his hands were shaking. Forcing back his emotions, he rested his head against the cold floor.

“Thank you for your mercy, My King.”

“You are dismissed”, Laxus ordered.

Getting up, Bickslow dared ask, “Before I leave, may I approach?”

Laxus nodded and he came up to the throne. Holding the little bag Rose had given him out, he presented it to The Queen.

“Rose asked me to give this to you.”

Levy accepted the bag and opened it, pulling out a silver chain with an amulet hanging from it. It was her charm. Rose was leaving for good and she severed all bonds to make sure it was as final as it seemed. Levy's jaw trembled for a moment before she managed to regain her posture.

“You take it. It is a charm of protection. Take it as a token of gratitude for your service”, she said, holding the amulet out.

“Thank you, Your Highness”, he accepted the warm magic.

Putting it around his neck, he bowed low once more and then left the castle for good. Levy could see how Laxus trembled as he watched his friend leave.

Lily gave a happy squeal and they turned their heads. Looking down at their innocent, unknowing child, they could no longer hold back tears. Thanks to Bickslow and Rose, the prince would be able to grow up in safety, not fearing any further attacks. And his soon to arrive little sister would be able to live a good life as well, the construction of the New Rove surely about to pick up in speed without the bandit camp interrupting it in the future.

Bickslow had to pay the price for all of it.

Taking a hold of her husband's hand, Levy snivelled, “It's my fault. I advised you not to go after Siegrain. It's all my fault. Mirajane died because I didn't see the threat. She died because I didn't see the warnings, didn't understand them in time. I failed you. I'm sorry.”

He squeezed her hand and shook his head. While his eyes were watery as well, his voice was yet calm and collected. “It is not your fault. Just as you told me I couldn't have seen it coming, I will tell you the same. It wasn't my fault she died for giving her inadequate guarding and it is not your fault that you cannot predict the future.”

Levy hardly found the comparison fair, but she nodded either way. What else was he supposed to say? For the sake of all of them, they had to convince themselves that it wasn't true. No one was at fault. One more lie. One more façade. Swallowing hard, Levy wiped her tears away and lifted her head.

“I believe that was the last item on today's schedule”, she stated.

“Can't you pardon Bickslow?”, Freed asked. He had sworn to himself not to interfere, but his heart burned with the loss.

The King shook his head. “No. Bickslow betrayed me personally, betrayed this kingdom. It is out of my hands. The best I can do is to throw him out instead of having him executed. I can't let it slide and keep face. It is just not possible.”

  


  


  


Evergreen made a habit of checking on the southern barracks once in a full moon, if so only to check on her old friend and being able to report back to Laxus that he was still breathing.

Finding Bickslow standing by the gate, she stopped by his side and looked out over the open road.

“I see you haven't quit yet.”

“I see you don't tire of repeating the same line every month”, Bickslow retorted.

“I heard a rumour about you when visiting the north gate”, Evergreen hinted and he gave a little shrug.

“You know how it is with rumours. They spread fast, but most aren't true.”

Evergreen huffed a laugh. “Aha. Well then I guess there's nothing to it.”

“I heard the rove construction is coming along nicely”, Bickslow said to distract.

“Yes. It is going really well now that no one is sabotaging it in any organised manner. I hope it stays that way, so Claudia won't have to marry that bastard's son.”

“We all hope”, Bickslow nodded. “Though I believe it is considered slander to call a king a bastard and a prince a bastard's son.”

Turning on her heel, Evergreen teased, “Kama seems like a decent informant.”

“I am sure I have no idea what you're talking about”, Bickslow said dryly and she chuckled.

“Sure, Not-Shadow Master. Sure you don't.”

Leaving his side, Evergreen returned to the castle and told Laxus of the short conversation. So far the demoted guard wasn't hating his new position. It seemed he had found a way to keep himself in the loop despite everything.

It didn't surprise Laxus in the least. Thanking Evergreen for the report, he headed out into the gardens. It was time for a report of his own.

Walking past the metal roses of the smiths, the old graves, and the cenotaph, he found Jessalyn and Lilithen's grave by the hedge. Stroking a hand over the top of the stone to clear if of leaves, he bowed his head and said his prayer before moving on.

Reaching the grave of his former wife, he sighed deeply. It was arguably the prettiest flowerbed in the entire garden that framed her name. Mirajane Dreyar, Queen of Fiore. Even after years, this was the most heartbreaking place in the world to visit.

Brushing some dust off the headstone, Laxus sat down on the small bench before it and sighed once more. Perhaps there really were gods and spirits after all. If so, she might at least still be out there somewhere and he might not be a foolish nostalgic man trying to converse with a piece of marble.

Placing a hand atop the headstone, Laxus began telling her of the recent happenings, as always.

“Our third child was born yesterday. It's another girl. I'm sure you can tell from Ophiuchus's realm somehow.

She is so precious, just as the other two. She is a mage according to Darton. Lily too, but we don't know in what way yet. He is really starting to come along with his training. He's a strong little fighter, a future knight surely, fit for the throne.

Gajeel really takes great care of our angels. I wish you could be here to see them for yourself.”

Laxus inhaled sharply as a warmth came to rest on his hand that had nothing to do with the glaring summer sun.

He could feel her spirit before him. Mirajane was right there, in front of him. He could sense it, was just short of seeing her sitting on the headstone with her hand draped on his.

A gust ruffled through his hair, causing his coat to billow up as the wind carried her whisper.

“I am always here.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://seradeposts.tumblr.com/)


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